The Conspiracy
by A-GIRL-NAMED-BILLY
Summary: Cato and Clove had plenty of chances to get rid of 23 and 24, Fire Girl and Lover Boy. Why didn't they? This is why. (The prequel is up now! :) )
1. Prologue Part I: Like Otters

**Prologue**

**Part I: Like Otters**

Sometimes I hike illegally in the mountains beyond the borders of District 2. Two people go with me. Sometimes it's all three of us, sometimes we go in pairs. Today, two of us packed bags with water and a day's worth of food. It's hot as always in summer in our district, hot and dry but we know better than to wear shorts hiking. There's no telling what you run into. So both of us are dressed in light pants with deep pockets, boots, and shirts that won't hold heat to our bodies. We'd arranged to meet at dawn and we're both on time. The sky is still pink and the sun hasn't quite broken the horizon.

We're good at finding secret places, the three of us, and it was years ago that we decided this place was secret enough to dig under the electric fence. I'm still careful not to touch it. Once we're through, it's a sprint of maybe a quarter mile to get us to the cover of trees. We make it there in under fifty seconds.

Now it's peaceful. We can talk out here. We can run and swim and be loud without fear. His brother is more careful, but we live our lives carefully, carefully training, carefully not talking about the real things on our minds, carefully not aggravating our trainers, carefully preparing. This is our place to be free, or as close to it as possible.

We're silent for a while, still waking up and also knowing what discussion is coming today. He and his brother are eighteen, which in other districts makes no difference because no one expects you to volunteer, but for us tomorrow is the day that will be expected of them, of him and his brother. He's promising and if he's chosen or volunteers, he's sure to be sent to the Capitol. I have another year of training before I have to worry. Some seventeen-year-olds volunteer but they're rarely chosen."Breakfast on that rock?" He interrupts my thought but I agree. We scale the giant boulder, me first, showing him where to put his feet as usual. I'm always the path finder. We sit and eat dry cereal, pieces of fruit, bread, and drink some water.

The goal is to hike the mountain nearest our exit point of our district. It's a trip that'll take most of the day. The summit is nearly three miles above sea level. We know it well enough to be able to make the return journey by torchlight. Shortly before lunchtime, we stop at one of the small tributaries running off the mountain to rinse our faces and refill our water. Both of us have brought iodine. None of the water is clean enough to drink since the catastrophe that put us in the mess of Panem.

I'm crouched over a deeper part of the tributary, dipping my hands in to cool them. I see small fish swimming around. I don't know how he manages it because I'm in a pretty firm position, but he off-balances me and I feel both annoyed and refreshed as I crash into the water. I turn and kick myself back to the surface making sure to exhale and keep my lips tight shut. "I should've guessed." I'm smiling at him. It's early summer so the water's still relatively cold but not unbearable for a few minutes, especially not when I've spent a good portion of my life thus far in ice baths to sooth sore muscles. "Join me?" He sheds his pack, boots and shirt and jumps in. I didn't think of that until just now. My boots are soaked. I splash him when I realize this, then duck down to pull off my boots and socks. I swim to the bank, lay them out and then we swim around for a while.

"We should get going again," I tell him after half an hour. If we want to make it up the mountain, we can't waste all this time.

"Your stuff's not dry," he reminds me.

"It's ok. We came out here to climb the mountain. I want to hike. They'll dry as we go." I hoist myself out, walk around in the grass to dry my feet, brush the dirt off them, then put on my socks and boots.

"How long do your parents think you'll be out?" he asks. I'd never leave a note, but I told my mother yesterday where I was going and with whom.

"Mid morning tomorrow at the latest."

"Hike up, rest, eat, sleep an hour or so and go back down?" I nod.

We don't stop again for lunch but eat as we go. It's late afternoon when we reach the peak of the mountain. We're tired and sweaty but happy. The two of us are almost always happy together. We ate several hours ago so he strikes a fire with some matches and we bring out some of the food that needs reheating. It's colder on the top of the mountain than it is at home but we're comfortable by the fire. The smoke also keeps many of the bugs away.

We're sitting with our feet over the ledge, looking out at the land we've just traversed and watching the sun turn the sky colors again. We'll take torches back down. It's dangerous to hike in the dark but we'll manage. None of us has ever been hurt badly up here. Bumps and bruises, maybe some moderate dehydration when we were younger and stupider but we're less young and smarter now. We're sitting in silence, listening to the musical bugs and the crackling of the wood in the fire. We're far enough away from home that they won't see the smoke.

"I'm going to volunteer tomorrow," he says out of nowhere. This was not the conversation I was hoping to have. If we were going to talk about the reaping, I wanted it to be the usual speculation as who would win. I guess that was naive. We've known since we were young that we would go in sooner or later. We were always the best in our years, the strongest, the fastest, the deadliest. We were the only two who intentionally and easily made friends at training. Everyone knows what we're there for and before us, they made no effort to be friendly, always remembering that they might very well have to either watch one of their friends die or kill them themselves. The mentors have told us that was how they first knew were were victor material. We could form alliances and then disregard them when the time came.

Even our mental capacities don't touch our physical capabilities now. No one challenges him at training. There will be no other tribute like him. Even Brutus, our most accomplished mentor, can't fight Cato and win. Cato's fearless and brutal when he needs to be to win a fight. I'm faster, lighter on my feet, more strategic, have better eyes and aim but I can't move heavy objects with brute strength the way Cato can. I need my technique and my strategy.

I've known he'd go first and I'd follow the year after but now that it's the night before his reaping, it's too soon. I don't want to see him go. "Don't," I tell him. I'm so stunned that it's all I can think to say. I'm just staring at him. I spend so much time making sure I look indifferent and sometimes even deluding myself into truly being so that I'm not sure if this is the natural reaction to watching one's best friend enter the Capitol's arena. Sadness. Fear. Anxiety. It must be. Right? I tell myself that anyway.

"I don't have a choice." I know what that means. Trainers and coaches tell the potential tributes when to volunteer. Others do as well, but the one the trainers and coaches want are the ones that win at the reaping. If he's been told it's his year, there's very little he can do, save not volunteering and hoping he doesn't get reaped. If he doesn't volunteer though, he'll be in for it here.

Districts 1, 2, and 4 have come up with a system, a system they've managed to keep off the Capitol's radar for nearly two decades. Two districts will send Careers who aren't victor material. Those tributes' coaches will know they're not going to come out but the Districts play up their tributes with confidence, as if they're all on the same playing field. If he's supposed to be going this year, then 2 is the District that's sending the winner. He'll come home. And if he doesn't go, he'll throw off the system. The problem is that the Capitol can always step in, can always choose the victor ahead of time and fix the arena so that tribute wins. And they have. He might not come home.

"Sure you do. Think about somebody other than your District, why don't you?" He glares at me. That was rude. I know who he's thinking of.

"My family's in the same situation as yours. Inhaling dust every day. They come home with so much rock on their hands and dust under their fingernails that they end up with it in their food. I'd only be doing it for them." Why else would we have even started training? If we win, our families won't have to live like than anymore.

"Do they know?" He drops the glare, looks down at the ground, and shakes his head. "You come out here with me on your last night instead of spending it with them? What's wrong with you?" Sometimes my mouth is faster than my thoughts. I forget what people should and shouldn't say to their friends.

"I wanted you to know. Don't volunteer and don't do anything stupid when I do." It's the hardest thing I've ever had to accept and I don't want to. I feel my throat tighten and I swallow.

"Please don't." My voice is quieter now. "I don't want to watch knowing you're in the arena." Usually something like that would make him laugh. We're not particularly sentimental people and quiet heartfelt statements aren't in our systems.

"You act like I wouldn't be coming home."

"What if you don't?" The words hang there for a moment or two, ringing in our ears before he answers.

"Then I'm glad we came up here tonight."

I grit my teeth, holding back whatever noise of sadness or protest that wants to come out of my mouth. When I look at him though I can't help it. I fling my arms around his neck and hold onto him. Sometimes I hug him or his brother but never like this. It's always in a good sportsmanship or a 'see you tomorrow' way. This is me, terrified and sad, clinging to him, begging him not to go. "Don't volunteer tomorrow, ok? Just don't. Stay here and let somebody else go." He lets me talk myself out, just holds onto me but that only makes it worse when I think that this might be the last time we're together. I stop talking and just bury my face between my arm and his neck.

I don't know how long we sit there like that but he doesn't say or do anything until I let go of him. He sits there and holds me, lets me have my mental breakdown, better tonight than tomorrow afternoon. He never says he won't volunteer. I run through a hundred different ways to make him stay, avoiding the one thought I know would work until I'm absolutely certain it's the only option.

I will volunteer.

He'll never want to be in the arena with me. Maybe he'll hate me for it, but only the same way I hate him in this moment. There's still the risk that he'll be reaped, but then we'd at least be in the arena together, not sitting idly before a television screen unable to help. We've always worked best together. There is of course always the concern that I won't be chosen, which would be a problem as well but then maybe he'll have panicked, maybe he'll realize what's in my head right now. Maybe that alone will convince him not to go. I doubt it. A momentary shock isn't enough to make him give up at his last chance of avoiding eating talc with every meal until he develops cancer or some other disease.

As planned, we lay down for a few hours before making the return journey. I feel like a traitor for making that plan without telling him but I'm still scared for him so I sleep close to him. I don't lay down close enough that we're cuddling but we reach our hands out and hold on for a few minutes. Usually we touch when we sleep up here. It's dangerous and we want to know the other's there. Normally we just hold hands though, simply, not with our fingers laced, just to make sure we'll be there to help if the other needs it.

Maybe he sees that I'm still worried or maybe I've made him feel guilty or scared. He pulls himself and his sleeping bag over and reaches out to put his hand on my shoulder. If this is going to be the last night we spend curled up out here, I want to be closer to him. I'm also trying everything to prevent him from volunteering. Maybe he'll figure out from such a clear break in my usual character that I _can't_ watch him go. Best friends can snuggle each other when one is facing the Hunger Games, right? I slide over until my forehead is touching his chest. He wraps the arm that was around my shoulders tighter around me and straightens the other arm, fitting it under my head.

I wake up exactly as I fell asleep. When I look up, he's watching me. "Did you sleep?" I ask.

"A bit, but I didn't want to wake up late and not be able to get back in time." Smart plan. Even if we weren't going to volunteer, we can't miss the reaping. I realize that I'm still laying on his arm. It must be completely numb by now.

"Sorry," I say, sitting up. As I do, I feel his other arm which had apparently been around me the whole time. "Let's eat something and get back." He says nothing, but sits up and joins me beside the remains of our fire. As we eat, I look up. You never see the stars like you do from this height. There's no light out here to dim them either. I think back on all the times we've come up here and carved out patterns in the sky, made up stories for characters we created.

"I've always loved coming up here," I hear him say. I drop my eyes from the sky. When I look at him, he blinks, looks down at the ground, then glues his eyes to the stars.

"You don't have to go," I tell him again.

He sighs. "Yes, I do. It'll be ok. It's the same sky over the arena as here." He's playing the 'we'll still be under the same sky even if I'm in the arena and you're not' card. That isn't good enough. He looks at me to see if he's made an impression.

"Come on." I shove my gear back into my bag, stand up and start back down the mountain.

The return journey is much quicker because we're descending. We check to make sure no one's around before we make the four-hundred yard dash back to the hole under the fence. We reenter the district and make a point of breathing through our noses for a minute or two so no one will realize we're out of breath. We're in shape, obviously, or we wouldn't be in the running for the Games, but still, in the heat and at this altitude, more than a mile above sea level, oxygen is hard to come by. We're nearing the corner where we split up when he speaks.

"Hey," he says, catching hold of my wrist as we make to separate. I stop immediately and turn to face him. He looks around then pulls me between two buildings. "Listen," he tells me, his voice urgent and quiet. "I'm sorry, ok? I'm really sorry it's come to this, but I'm begging you to stay in the crowd. Stay here with my brother and our families." I should have known he'd know my plan. We're far too close for him not to. Why then, did he not know not to tell me? Maybe he didn't want me to throw a fit when he volunteers. I swallow and grit my teeth, but give him no nod of confirmation. I won't lie to him. We don't do that. Infamous as we are as Careers, we do have morals. "Stay in the crowd," he says again, hugging me. It's a hug, but again, not a normal one. This time he's the one clinging to me. "I promise I'll come back. I will. Just you stay here and wait for me."

** Disclaimer:** I love them, but don't own anything.

**AN:** You'll meet Cato's brother in the next chapter.

Also, if you're wondering why it's called "Like Otters" ... watch?v=epUk3T2Kfno

Let me know what you thought and I'll post the second chapter, k?


	2. Prologue Part II: The Reaping

**Prologue**

**Part II: The Reaping**

I'm yelling that I volunteer, but so are all the others. We're pushing each other to get closer to the stage. Some people have started fighting, either out of anger or to get attention. Finally, one girl is pulled up onto the stage, but the commotion doesn't die down. There's enough that I shove my way to the stage jump up the stone stairs and connect the end of the handle of the knife I've been hiding with the girl's temple with all the strength in me. She makes a noise and falls like a rock to the ground, a bruise already rising around the point of contact. _Now_ there's silence. Nobody, not even the Capitol woman sent to collect tributes, moves. They've never seen that happen. No one is bold enough to knock the potential tribute unconscious. _I_ didn't even know I would do that. The knife was a precaution. "I said: I volunteer," I tell them clearly. Like the fact that they didn't pull me up first was a direct insult.

I can see Cato and his twin brother, Caleb. They are standing as close to the stage as possible, and at the ropes separating the boys from the girls. As I watch, Caleb pulls Cato back. It looks to me like Cato had tried to move over to grab hold of me to keep my in the crowd. There are some twins that have some differentiating factor in their appearance: small flecks of some color in the eyes, freckles, but not Cato and Caleb. They are the epitome of identical, but I can tell the difference between them even from up here. Caleb looks sad as we make eye contact. None of us wanted the others to go. Too bad for them girls go first. Cato's just glaring at me, furious at me for doing exactly what he begged me not to do. I glare back, but I must just look like I'm glaring at everyone. _You can't volunteer now, can you?_

"My my, aren't we persistent," the Capitol woman praises me, "Congratulations..." she waits for me to tell her my name.

"Clove Harper," I say darkly.

"Congratulations to District 2's Clove Harper!" There's a round of applause from the trainee crowd, their parents, our coaches and trainers, from everyone who doesn't work in masonry. Our district is credited mostly with mining granite by the Capitol. Everyone knows we train the Peacekeepers but they don't really advertise that, especially not around the time of the reaping because that would encourage rumors that we train for the arena. How ironic that the ones who work in masonry are the ones who hate the Capitol.

"And now for the boys." I stop thinking about the Capitol as my heart pounds in my ears and my hands begin to sweat. She clicks to the other massive glass bowl, reaches in and pulls out one of the slips of white paper. Then it's back to the microphone and it's all I can do not to cross my fingers and start mouthing my thoughts. "Congratulations to Cato Armstrong!"

My heart drops. I lock my teeth together and keep glaring at the crowd, now at no one in particular as Cato has already started making his way to the stage. I'm frozen by shock, terror, and sadness, but every part of me is screaming to run. Get off this stage. Take Cato's hand and tear off up into the mountains. We'd make it. They'd never catch us. If only I could move.

The whole crowd knows he's the one for the job and after what they've just seen me do, no one will volunteer. Between knowing what Cato's capable of and watching me knock this girl unconscious, they're either approving, secure in the knowledge that one of us will come home, or too scared to volunteer.

Damn.

Disclaimer: I still love them but don't own anything

AN:

1. So I know in the book it says Cato volunteers but I'm using the "Katniss is a first person narrator and is therefore occasionally unreliable" rule of reading first person stories.

2. I know this chapter is shorter so I'll probably post Chapter 1 within the next day or two (which isn't to say that you can't review this chapter anyway :) )

3. and most importantly THANK YOU all so much for your reviews :) It's the best feeling ever to get feedback. It's literally what keeps me posting on here. So to LizCaine, Ombre de la luna, TwilightCharmedFaie, Clato321, and Ghanaperu, you're the greatest and I hope you like this chapter as much as the previous and that you continue to read and tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter I: Our Brave Tributes: Careers

**Chapter 1: Our Brave Tributes: Careers**

"Let's hear it for our brave tributes, Clove Harper and Cato Armstrong!" announces the woman who we must now think of as our escort. I nod curtly as the half audience gives a deafening roar while the other half claps politely for Cato and me. We turn and shake hands.

The Peacekepers, most of whom Cato and I know by name, hurry us dutifully to the Justice Building where we await our friends and family for final goodbyes. "Good luck," my coach tells me, holding out a hand to shake. We aren't particularly close and hugs are too sentimental for either of us so a handshake it is. Even for us though, he's stiff. It couldn't be clearer that he doesn't expect me to come out of this with Cato as my counterpart. "See you after?"

"Count on it," I answer, trying to deny the feeling I'm getting from him.

"Take this," he holds out the tribute token for me. "You weren't supposed to have it until next year but I guess you changed the plan." The district pays for the tokens to be made. Every tribute gets one and they're all different. Mine is a small gold ring, set with a diamond. "It's engraved. Look." He turns the ring so I can see the engraving on the inside. "Stay safe, Tiny." Sometimes they call me Tiny. It's kind of a joke. I'm one of the smallest trainees but also one of the very best.

"I didn't know you made these things so far in advance," I tell him. Why does he have my ring a year before I was set to go?

"We knew you'd try to get in this year so we had it made in case you succeeded." I just look at him, but I can't help feeling annoyed. If they already had my ring made, why did they tell Cato it was his turn to volunteer? Why not just let me go and kick the successive winner plan? No, they planned this. They don't care about any attachment Cato and I might have to each other. We should be able to turn those off for the honor of our district, right? They don't care that we're going in at the same time as long as one of us comes home. "We didn't want you to. We wanted you two to win one after the other." He repeats as if this will make me believe him.

"I'm not an idiot." My voice reflects my mood. He's trained me to be as dangerous as I am, but he never expected it to turn on him. He'd better hope I'm not the one to come home because if I have to kill Cato to get back, they'll all be in for it.

He blinks at me. I grind my teeth, waiting for his response. "Watch your tone in your interview. Control yourself." He puts his hands on my shoulders, then slides them down my arms to grip my wrists tightly. "And yes you are. You deviated, not us. This is on you." I see red and if he hadn't just reminded me to control myself, I'd destroy him for that. Instead I stand still, making him feel foolish for preventatively holding my wrists. "Alright," he grins at me and claps me on the shoulder. "See you soon?"

"Count on it," I repeat. It's a threat.

He leaves and I force myself to calm down before my family comes in. When my mother arrives she throws her arms around my neck. She and my father mine granite in the quarries and they never approved of the Capitol's games, nor of my decision to train as a Peacekeeper, but now they have no choice to accept both. She cries. My father waits his turn, looking determined not to cry, but there are tears in his eyes.

My parents stay with me but I can't help thinking that the person I would have spent the rest of this hour with is in the other room, saying his goodbyes as well. When his family comes in to hug me and whisper words of comfort and encouragement, mine goes to say goodbye to Cato.

"That was insane." Caleb tells me the minute he's hugging me.

"I should've known they'd fix it," I tell him. "I shouldn't have volunteered, but I couldn't have watched knowing he was in it."

"How do you think I feel?" He's trying to smile, trying to make this easier but it only makes me feel worse. I hug him tighter. It's always been Cato and me and him against the whole world and now it's Cato against me and Caleb at home unable to help. What on earth was I thinking, volunteering? The Hunger Games are a one man sport. That was why Cato and I were intended to be successive winners. First him, then me. We were never supposed to be in the arena together. "Trust him," Caleb tells me as he holds onto me. It's probably getting a little excessive now, even for a goodbye hug. "Just trust him. You work best together anyway. Try to get both of you back here alive." They're very different, Caleb and Cato. Cato's like me, smart but not quick to become angry, strong and fit but clearly for one purpose, and mean, even if part of that is magnified by an act. Caleb is quieter, more tame, thoughtful, built exactly like his brother but using his strength and genetic advantage for other pursuits. He's smart. He's so smart the coaches and trainers would never have thought to put him in the arena. He's more useful here at home becoming an engineer or a pilot. He knows everything about every hovercraft we have here, having helped build parts for all of them. If he thinks there's a way we can both get back here, then there must be hope, or else he's just being kind. I choose not to weigh the likelihood of these options.

More Peacekeepers enter and escort me to the tribute train. I meet Cato there and we sit beside each other on one of the comfortable couches, facing the direction we're traveling. Our escort enters, beaming as they always do, congratulates us again, gives us a brief rundown of our schedule, then leaves. We don't know who our mentors are, (they presented themselves but I wasn't paying attention, guess why) but we certainly know them from training. Even though we were technically training to become Peacekeepers, the victors from 2 were always there.

There was a special section for those of us actually preparing for the Games that met twice a week. There they taught us everything about survival that the Peacekeepers left out. What to eat and what not to eat, how to tie different knots, make nets, trap, hunt, gather. They taught us hand to hand combat, spear and knife throwing, sword fighting, mace wielding, and archery. Everything necessary for survival in the arena.

Cato and I have trained together for as long as either of us has wanted to be in the Games. We helped each other, pointed out flaws, corrected them, helped hone natural talents to be used as deadly weapons. He's strong, excellent at hand-to-hand combat and a master swordsman. I'm handy with a knife and don't usually waste my time with brutality. I just get the job done. I'd rather be farther away, that is, I'm more comfortable throwing than I am stabbing or slicing, but I'm not bad at hand-to-hand myself. In my case, strength came in a small package, but speed is my naturally deadly weapon. As far as everything else, we're Careers and we can handle it if no one else in the arena can.

Disclaimer: Still love them but don't own :P

AN: Thank you so much to Ghanaperu, Messy Ink, TwilightCharmedFaie, and O.G (for the record, way to go for being the first guy I've ever met who reads fanfiction. That's awesome). Especially thanks to Day of Diana, my beta reader (who, because I'm an idiot did not edit this chapter so if there are mistakes they're on me haha)

I do encourage you to read and review because it's what keeps me motivated. My favorite thing is waking up to reviews and things of that sort on this site. It's great so if you want to make my day, write me :)

The next chapter will be posted soon. It's a little longer than this one and comes right before we get into the Capitol for the opening ceremony :)


	4. Chapter II: On the Train

Chapter 2: On the Train

Cato doesn't talk to me for a while, several hours in fact. I say his name, unable to bear the silence anymore. "You shouldn't be here." His voice is low but not dangerous, just quiet and distracted. "You're not even qualified for this. It isn't your year. You should've let the other girl have it."

"I thought if I volunteered, you wouldn't," I admit.

"What? And it didn't occur to you that I could still be reaped?

"The fact that nobody else volunteered was completely unexpected. I thought they would. I told you I couldn't watch if you were in the arena."

"I shouldn't have told you," he mutters.

"Well I'm glad you did. At least I had a heads up that you were really playing their game!"

I leave. I sit in my quarters for a while, thinking. That last comment was indecent of me. I know why he would have volunteered. Two reasons.

1: If the coaches tell you it's your turn, you volunteer and you do everything in your power to get to that stage.

2: His family is as poor as mine. A lifetime supply of wealth and food sounds pretty good from this angle, even if it means entering the arena

I sit long enough for the tension to die down, then I return to stand in front of him. "I'm not afraid of you," I tell him. "I never have been and I'm not now."

"Okay. Why not?"

I should be. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know that so you know that what next comes out of my mouth is genuine, not just being said so you'll spare me or something. I'm not trying to mess with you."

When I say 'spare me' his eyes go wider for a split second before he blinks and his face returns to normal. I don't think he expected me to put it so bluntly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't mention it." I nod, unsure of what I should say. He sees that in my face and takes the pressure from me. "Come here, Tiny. We can sit and watch TV like at home."

"Okay." I guess we can play pretend for a while. I sit beside him and he puts an arm around my shoulders.

When I look at him quizzically, he says, "What? You hugged me on a mountain and I can't put my arm around you on a train?" My mood changes from puzzled to amused. I tell him I guess it's fine and we sit for a while, watching TV like old times.

I've never been to the Capitol and I've only ever seen the tribute train from the outside. District 2's not bad. We've got electricity most of the time, TV that brainwashes us, and we've got food. Not quality food like they must have in the Capitol, 1, 4, and maybe even 10, but edible food that we don't usually have to work too hard to obtain. Eating dust on top of it is miserable, but people don't usually starve. The teressae and the extra food rations from Peacekeeper training are all that really keep us feeling healthy. The lavish...well everything around me reminds me why I hate this, hate Panem, hate the Capitol, even the tributes for playing along. That the Capitol can live like this while kids in the Seam starve is outrageous, worse than that: It's an atrocity! I know that most of the Capitol doesn't even realize what goes on in the outer districts, but that doesn't change the fact that the government most certainly does. Snow knows, and his people know, and they let it happen, they intend it to happen, like they intend the beastly deaths in the Games. Twenty-three children dead every year. Talk about population control.

"What are you thinking about?" Cato asks. It's kind of a game we play, asking the other out of nowhere what he/she is thinking about and always getting an honest answer. Maybe we'll never speak of that discussion again.

"The Games. And really, how sick this all is-"

His head snaps around to look at me. Talking like that at home is one thing, in the safety of his house or mine or wandering around secret places we shouldn't go, but here I must remember not to run my mouth. I must not endanger his family or mine.

I quickly backpedal, force myself to halt my train of thought and do my best to swallow my anger. "Nothing."

"I wish we had something to read," he says. "Something real, not this Capitol nonsense."

"You realized why I stopped talking, right?" He can't seriously be continuing this tone on this train going to this location for this purpose. Really? Where's Caleb when you need him?

"They expect tributes to be interested in this kind of crap?" He snatches a magazine from a basket and reads, "'Ten Cheap Household Items to Keep Your Skin Looking Bright'" He shows me the cover, which depicts a woman with dark blue skin with little white dots glistening in it, making her look like she's been sprinkled with stars. "No! I'm a tribute from District 2! I want to see some gore! I want a last minute cramming session before this gets going!" He throws the magazine across the compartment and crosses his strong arms over his chest. I'm trying not to crack a smile but I fail when he glances at me, grinning, and we both laugh, knowing the Capitol is taunting us, reminding us who we are. Laughing back at them is a much better use of our time than rising to their bait and becoming lonely or homesick or wishing we could live like they do.

We watch Capitol TV, which includes a recap of the reapings, for most of the duration of the ride. Both of us notice how Effie Trinket's wig seems to be sliding around on her shiny bald head and we laugh with schadenfreude when Haymitch plummets off the stage in 12. It's an awkward, funny-looking fall and we know he can't possibly feel it because he's so gone. We'll talk strategy (just because we can't be Cato and Clove the Team anymore doesn't mean we can't be Careers) when we're in our quarters in the Training Center. The girl from 11, who will probably be known as 21 from here on, has earned my sympathy and if I have any say in the matter (which I certainly will) she'll have as quick and easy a death as her killer can think of, or they'll answer to Cato and me. I don't want to see a twelve-year-old tortured. Atrocious.

Cato and I sleep in the TV room. We have quarters of our own, but by the time we decide to sleep we're too tired to go to them. I tell him to get off the couch and he does, though I bet he didn't need telling. I toss him down a blanket and some fluffy pillows and curl up to sleep.

I'm woken a few hours later by a soft voice.

"Come on sleepyhead, get up. Our escort's about to lose it." Cato's shaking my shoulder gently and I blink in the sunlight now pushing its way rudely through the window.

"What?"

"Come on. They're freaking out. We gotta get breakfast and tell them we're still here."

"I'd rather listen to them freak out." I pull my blanket up over my head.

"Only because you'll tune them out. I on the other hand will have to listen to them, which I don't want, so get up or I'll...I'll-"

"Good," I say dismissively, "Keep doing that."

"I'll touch your foot."

That gets me up in a big hurry. I hate that! I don't know why. "Do that and you die!" I remind myself of the thoughts I had yesterday, about how Cato and I know everything about each others' strengths and weaknesses. He knows exactly what to say to get me up.

"Good. You're up."

"And you're smug."

"And also..." He acts as if I haven't spoken (the audacity!) "Engaging in combat is totally illegal at this point."

I mutter something obscene as I throw a pillow at him. He laughs as it hits him and even smiles as I straighten up and push my hair away from my face. "We're in here, guys," Cato says to our escort and mentors in the hall.

The escort buzzes around, raving about how we nearly gave her a heart attack before I remind her that the train is surrounded by an electrical force-field that will prevent us from jumping from it. Cato looks at me, but I ignore him, knowing why I'm getting that look, and sit down for breakfast.

They don't have to explain actual technique to us anymore. Cato's and my jobs are to go in, find useful allies, maybe make a few fake allies, allies we can align ourselves with and kill off quickly so we don't have to track them down, and scare the ones we know won't ally themselves with us. As for tonight at the opening ceremony, my mentor tells me to leave my attitude on the train.

"You'll be on camera from here until they bring you home." The words 'alive or in a box' seem to hang in the air, though maybe only I feel their presence. "It'll help if the audience likes you. You'll get sponsors that way."

"Why kill people in their sleep in the arena? People don't like that." They would rather see a fight.

"That's for show. Little bit of blood now and then and little bit of ruthlessness to show you mean business." Excellent. Fits right in with my moral code. You'd better ditch that in the arena. Oh wait that's- is she still talking? "...leave it to Cato. Just tell him to do it."

"I'm the boss," I joke.

"Your sponsors are your bosses, so make them like you. You'll have to be sweet in Capitol, but let them see that you mean to win this thing." I nod. So, none of my sarcasm, all of my sweet (right) and a sprinkling of brutal District 2. Got it. "And don't take off with Cato until you're in the arena. I don't care what you two do privately but I don't want to deal with Tuuli."

"We don't do anything privately," I say, maybe a little too defensively, though it's perfectly true. I don't even want to consider that.

She laughs at me, claps me on the shoulder and walks away. "Make sure you're ready to go. We'll be getting off soon." Fine. I'll play along with her next time.

We pass under the tunnels that tell us we're approaching the Capitol. "Nervous?" Cato asks as we stand shoulder to shoulder facing the window.

"We live for this, remember?"

"Ironic, isn't it?"

That we've waited our whole lives for a 1 in 24 chance to return home?

Yes.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: This one's long, sorry

Alright so a little bit of bonding, humor, trying to laugh off the fact that they're going into the arena in five days, reasonable, right? It's weird, but right before I post things on here, I have the sudden urge to rewrite them completely. Like "No no no this isn't good enough! These characters don't behave this way! This idea is dumb!" and I have to fight myself not too. For helping me fight myself, thank you to my lovely beta reader, Day of Diana, whose ability to be thorough and gently at the same time is amazing :) I love you.

I'm feeling full of love today :)

So, short story time, and you should know I try not to do this anymore. My ANs used to be really long but this is important.

I had a girls' night with my mom tonight. We went to see Idina Menzel who, by the way is incredible! I can't stress that enough. She's funny, entertaining, touching, personable, and good God is she talented. The woman was sick today, had no voice and still sang for a few thousand people for well over an hour. 3 encore songs just...fabulous. She's great. And the reason I'm telling you this: I realized tonight in being part of the crowd there to support her, that we are there to support her. As much as she's an entertainer and that's her job, our energy is important to her. She wants to see us smile and here us cheer. It's how she knows she's doing her job and it's why she loves what she does. I just want to say that those of you who review this, give to me what the audiences at concerts give their performers. I really am grateful. You people are wonderful and I just want you to know that I appreciate every comment I get to read from you, even if it's short.

~Billy


	5. Chapter III: 12

**Chapter 3: 12**

Peacekeepers usher us off the train, through the station and down into one of the lower floors of the Training Center where we meet our prep teams and stylists. The minute we exit the elevator, they separate Cato and me, put us in separate rooms with different sets of three people.

My team puts hot wax on strips of paper and pulls up the stubble on my legs and every other bit of hair on my body that isn't on my head. That's really the worst of it. Then they put me in a bath of strange smelling gel, get me out, rub my skin down with grainy soap, then another bath. They wash my hair for me in a sink, which feels nice until I realize how very heavy wet hair is, but once dried it's light again, dark brown, and falls to just above my elbows. Then I sit in a thin robe while they file and paint my fingernails and toenails, shine a bright light on my teeth, pluck some stray hairs I never even noticed from my eyebrows, and curl my lashes. There's some naked standing around with them looking at me. They taught us to be like machines in every sense of the word in 2. We had so many doctors looking at us to make sure we were in perfect health that eventually we grew used to being naked in front of people. Privacy and personal space were commodities afforded only to victors, Peacekeepers, and high officials. We didn't run around naked everywhere, in fact nowhere, but we were taught not to be self-conscious of our bodies and therefore I can stand here like a mannequin. Do your worst, slaves of the Capitol.

Now I meet my stylist, a woman with flowing blue hair and matching eyes, and by matching I do mean wearing bright blue contacts so her hair and eyes literally match.

"Hello, my dear! Congratulations! I saw you at the reaping. Very impressive. My name is Alaia! " she gushes upon entering, "Come into the light. Let me look at you."

Even I notice her strong Capitol accent, though I know my own accent is probably closer to hers than to those of 11 or 12. Those tributes will be laughing if they're not too dead scared already to laugh. Alaia takes my hand and guides me over to stand directly under the overhead light.

"You have lovely posture." She beams, walking around me only an arm's length away.

Posture? Who comments on peoples' posture?

"And I hope you don't object to us leaving your hair long like this?"

Do stylists often ask for the tributes' opinions? She raises her blue eyebrows at me.

I nod. "That's fine."

"Excellent! I've met your fellow tribute and had a word with his stylist. You two are going to be stunning!" She proceeds to tell me energetically about my costume for the procession into the City Circle and I listen, wishing Cato were here.

Once I finish lunch Alaia gives me back to the prep team. They tie up my hair, braid it back, paint my nails with color this time as opposed to clear coating, and do the rest of my makeup. It smells strange, oddly sweet, and I try not to breathe in the soft powder, remembering the unfortunate occasion, namely this morning, when I inhaled powdered sugar off of a sneakily stolen doughnut.

Alaia returns and helps me into the costume itself, which is heavy, much heavier than my day clothes, almost like Peacekeeper uniforms, but softer and clearly not meant to withstand a physical attack. No, no, that's for me to deal with, not my clothes.

When I approach the chariot, Cato drops to one knee, so his head is level with my chest, takes one hand and kisses the back of it. He looks nice too and this strange greeting means he's playing up the costume, pretending to be this character. We match. We're wearing gold, shiny gladiator costumes, both with heavy gold helmets on our heads. Symbolic, probably of the fact that more victors have come from 2 than anywhere else. Maybe Alaia told me that already. Hmm. His arms are entirely exposed, which I've only ever seen when we swam together. This was probably an idea of his stylist. You can see every muscle from his shoulder to his wrist. When standing, he looks strong and intimidating, powerful. I wonder if I do too.

"You look the part," he tells me reassuringly, looking up. "Don't be nervous."

"Thank you," I say very quietly as he stands back up. We, our stylists, and prep teams are the only ones in the room, so none of the other tributes or their people see this breach in typical tribute character. We can grin at each other excitedly without worrying.

"Did you hear about 1?" Cato asks as I step into the chariot, liking the feeling of being taller than him for once. I shake my head and lean over the side of the chariot, emphasizing the height difference, which is only a couple of inches because he's so tall on his own. "Relax," he tells me, shaking his head. "So 1," he continues, "had this ring I guess, my prep team was talking about it, and they confiscated it. When they checked her, they found this thing and the stone turned. There was a spike in it and when they tested it they said there was poison on it."

"Did they bust her?"

"Are you kidding? What do they care? I bet they regret finding it. It would've made a good surprise weapon. But they just said they couldn't prove she knew about it. She's going in with us." I shake my head.

"Aren't you two just the third and fourth most attractive tributes District 2 has ever seen?" calls a voice from across the room. Our mentors are crossing the hall to meet us.

"Is this why District 2 people win?" I ask Cato before they get to us, "Our egos?" He shrugs as his mentor puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Listen, we've got a plan for you two, at least before you get into the arena," says my mentor. "Stick sort of close to each other. It's good for both of you, promise. Cato looks huge in comparison to you and you're both sure to attract attention."

"How does that benefit her?" Cato asks.

"She's pretty but she looks like she's here on business." I raise my eyebrows at her. "You're threatening, intimidating; even if you're small." Thanks for the update. "You can thank your performance at the reaping for that."

"It's time!" says Cato's stylist, bounding forward looking excited.

Cato steps onto the chariot next to me, using the bar on my left, and holding on to the wood of the chariot in front of him until he gets his balance. He looks down at me, grins as best he can, gives my shoulder a squeeze and then stands stock still for the thirty seconds before we move out into the street. Once we're out he's funny though, grinning for no reason in particular. The girls seem to like him a lot, screaming his name and ignoring the boys from 1 and 3 almost immediately. I can't help but crack a smile at that. I wave, getting a fair amount of recognition from the crowds myself. They're cheering, yelling our names as we roll past.

It's not until we're very far out in the city that we hear the real roaring start. I look up at the television screen and see 12 standing on their chariot, apparently literally on fire, but smiling. 23 is blowing kisses at the crowd and holding 24's hand. Some of the crowd, distracted by the distant noise and the image they're now seeing on the giant screen, stops screaming for us and begins to chant 12's names. Cato and I glance at each other, irritated immediately at the fact that we are now being ignored.

It's not until we're back on the ground, off the chariot, that I think where this might lead them. Presenting themselves as a team, holding hands, smiling, laughing, and talking while riding around the Capitol is unheard of in these Games. You go in as one person and you come out or you die as one person and it's now that it hits me how very real that is. I thought about it on the train, but I've just witnessed it in the way the other tributes acted. Cato and I will not be returning side by side from these games no matter what Caleb said. He's a threat to me in the arena. I look at Cato for no other reason than that as I get off the chariot.

12 comes in three or four minutes after us because they were farthest away from the entrance. By the time they enter, everyone else is off their chariots and many of them are glaring at 12, Cato included. I'm looking at them, probably glaring without realizing it, but I'm thinking, too, that if the Capitol likes them as a couple, some of us could use that to our advantage. There's a brief moment of hope as I realize this. It's a desperate person's hope, but aren't all 24 of us desperate?

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: Thanks again for all your lovely, lovely reviews! There are so many guests reviewing! You guys should make accounts so I can write them on here instead of giving an 'I love you, Guests of " statement. PriscillaSilver and Clato123 you're also fabulous and I hope you continue to review. It's so very motivating. :)

Also, instead of four days in between chapters, I think what I'll do for the next few is post them within a day of each other. Some of the upcoming chapters are very short but then we're in the arena so even if they're short they're really hardcore. Hope you enjoy.


	6. Chapter IV: No More Cato and Clove

**Chapter 4: No More "Cato and Clove"**

After dinner Cato and I sit up a while, watching the re-reruns of the Opening Ceremony. Thankfully, Cato and I continue to look happy even while we're being ignored.

"What are you thinking?" he asks me again.

As 21's face comes up on the screen, I'm reminded of what I wanted to talk to Cato about yesterday. "I don't want 21 to be hurt," I tell him. "When we form the Alliance we need to tell the others that they aren't to hurt her."

He looks confused. "It's the Games. What do you expect them to do? Sacrifice themselves for her just because you say so?"

"No. I just mean that if she dies, I want it to be in the quickest, least painful way possible."

"And if it's not?"

"Then they answer to us?"

He seems to consider this, but moves on. "What did you think of 12?"

"I think that if used correctly, the team thing they have going for them could be used to our advantage."

He raises his eyebrows questioningly.

Our? That's unwise, going into the Games with that attitude. Thinking about it is one thing, letting someone else in on my thoughts is foolish. I've been trying to tell myself that this whole time, but it's not sticking. They're strange, those little bursts of hope, those crazy ideas that pop into my head, images of Cato and me returning to the Capitol together, victorious. All dashed sometimes, other times almost so vivid they appear tangible.

"I mean...never mind. Maybe if we play it right we could..." We again. No. I need to sort this out before I keep talking. I'm done. I need to go to sleep. "Never mind. I'm tired. It's been a long day. I'll see you in the morning." I stand up and exit the room.

"Wait a second." Cato follows me but I close the door to my quarters before he catches me. "Hang on. What did you mean?" He rattles the handle but it's locked and even he's not strong enough to break through a bolt. "Clove," he says, bashing his shoulder into the door.

We can't do this. We can't go into this together because there's no way that idea of 12's will work. Just because they have only one mentor does not mean showing up as a team will get them both out and there's no way Cato and I could use them and therefore no way there's a Cato and Clove team. No we. They've always encouraged Cato and me to be a team, to work together, to coach each other, to practice with each other, and now we're here in the Capitol and there's no more Cato and Clove. I must keep repeating that to myself whenever Caleb's stupid idea pops into my head.

I change into pajamas, wash my face, and crawl into the big fluffy bed. Sad and scared for both of us, both of District 2's tributes (as that is the only way I can now refer to us without feeling guilty), I curl up and bury my face in the blankets and pillows. It's too warm after a few minutes so I push the blanket off and tuck it under one arm. Every so often for the next half an hour the handle rattles or the door shakes in its hinges as Cato tries to - tries to what, break it down? - yep, break it down. I ignore him.

They told us sometime last night that we're to meet early this morning for breakfast for strategizing and then go down to the gym a little before 10. Maybe if we're there earlier we'll hear something useful. I push the warm covers off myself and realize even the lighter ones I slept under are a little too warm for comfort because I'm covered in a light sheen of sweat. Well, I can't have that so I kick them the rest of the way off, swing my feet off the bed and take a shower. It's barely 8 o'clock, so I stand in the warm water a little while longer, enjoying the peace and the steady pounding of the droplets on tiles. After ten minutes of doing nothing in the water, I realize my skin is becoming redder because of the heat.

I sigh and step out, wrapping a soft towel around my body. There's a dryer on the wall in the bathroom, clearly meant for hair. It's strange not to have to do it myself and I can't say I really like it. A camera creates a picture of my wet hair, lying flat against the top of my head and then, at the touch of a button, a virtual image of my forehead and hair appears on a small rectangular screen, depicting different types of hair parting styles. I pick the simple straight down the middle one. The only reason I've every given my hair this much thought has been because I needed to tie it back for training. Capitol residents clearly give too much thought to this and spend too much money on how they look when they pro- Get dressed, Clove.

I dress in the training clothes provided by my stylist, unlock the door, pull it open and jump backward, having just woken Cato, who also starts, looks around, and gets quickly to his feet. "What was that?" he asks, more aggressively than even he should be this early in the morning.

"I opened my door?"

"Not that. Last night. You taking off. Come here." He steps into my room, gently moving me backward, and closes the door. "We gotta talk this out," he whispers, "We gotta figure out what we're doing before we get into the arena."

"What?"

"21's on our list of 'don't kill unless absolutely necessary and if so, make it painless'. We need to think of allies, people we can't trust, what to do with the people we can't decide on-"

"And when we're the only two left?" I prompt. "I don't want to kill you, Cato." I don't even really want to fight him.

"I won't kill you. We've gotta figure out how we're both gonna get out of the arena."

I just stare at him.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: I got angry texts all day yesterday from a dear friend insisting that I post this yesterday but I told her one a day so here you are, one today ending rather spontaneously. The next chapter is their discussion of this matter.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews and do please continue but I have a very important matter also.

Please send happy positive thoughts and prayers if you will to a dear friend who lost someone very special yesterday. She means a lot to me and I wish her well.


	7. Chapter V: The Same As Always

**Chapter 5: The Same As Always**

At first, I'm not sure whether or not to believe him. Tributes do this all the time to each other, even tributes from the same district. Careers included. Everybody wants to come out of this alive and everybody knows that he or she has to do whatever it takes to do that. Even Careers who have known each other like Cato and me have had to kill each other, and because both want to get out, both for themselves and for the honor of their district, they fight it out and their deaths are brutal.

But this is Cato, my friend and partner from training. It'd be insulting not to trust him. I've always trusted him. And I know this is exactly what other tributes who have stood in my shoes thought. But by the end of the Games they were nothing but blood-covered human shapes on the ground and their so-called friends had to go home and live with the guilt of killing them.

"I know there's nothing I can say right now that'll make you believe that, and you don't have to, but I promise you-"

"You'll kill when you have to. You know it's what's expected, especially of us." Us again. Well this time I meant _us the District 2 tributes_, not _us the Team_.

"I didn't say that. I said we're friends and we've always been friends and I will not go home knowing I killed you. Our families are friends; our friends from school are friends. Every one of them would remind me of you. I can't." He's right. I put my finger on my upper lip and walk away from him, into the center of my room, thinking. I pace. Everyone in my life is in his and vice versa.

"If we're both gonna get out, we have to trust each other from here on," I say. That 'what are you thinking?' game will have to hold true for everything we ever say to each other. No messing around.

"I trust you." He says it without hesitation.

"Did you ever consider the fact that we could be adversaries?"

"I tried. It made me want to wreck that TV compartment instead of just throwing the magazine across it." He must know I have considered the possibility seriously, must know that was why I shut him out last night.

"Sorry," I say, dropping my hands, wrapping my arms around my stomach and looking at the ground, feeling guilty.

"Head up," he corrects me, stepping closer. It's his go-to phrase in the gym. I always lift looking down or to the side or anywhere but up unless someone reminds me to. There's no reason for it, but it is bad for my spine so Cato used to walk by and pull gently on the end of my ponytail and say 'head up' and usually walk away. I smile at these memories.

The simple 'sorry' is all I can seem to manage. He's said it all already so I just lean against his chest and put my arms around his waist as he hugs me. He's strong and even this non-crushing hug is tight but comfortable. If I stepped back he'd let me go but otherwise I can't move without hitting him first.

It's nice, knowing Cato and I will make every effort for both of us to come out of this alive. If I think about it now, I could never have been the one to kill him and I'm glad we've formed this alliance. There's also some value in knowing that Cato and I, the two most promising tributes in the arena, are allies, real allies because we're friends above these Games.

I feel him loosen his grip in order to lean away and look down at me. "So, what was your idea last night?"

I pull the rest of the way out of the hug as I tell him to sit on the foot of my bed. I want to say this quietly because I know this room is bugged. It's got to be. He sits and I kneel beside him, cup my hands around his ear and whisper to him about how, maybe if the Capitol liked seeing 12 work as a team, they'll like seeing us as a team, too.

He shakes his head, turns and whispers to me. "No. If we act like that now, the Capitol will think we're copying them, and since when has 2 ever copied 12? We'll have to reinforce their liking of those two as a pair and keep them alive in the arena, at the very least long enough for the Capitol to like them enough to make an exception to the rules this year."

"What if they don't? What if it gets down to just you and me?"

"They can't make us kill each other."

"Maybe not, but they could send something else in to do the job for them."

"We'd protect each other. It'd be better if they changed the rule though, so we have to show them what a good team 12 makes but we can't make it obvious that we're helping them. As far as you and me go, we have to act normal, like Careers, allies but not particularly close."

He's right.

Disclaimer: Don't own

An: Ok, fairly short today because I have to go soon but I have to tell hungergames98 and Ghanaperu how very fabulous they are! This is a record for me and I love that you guys keep telling me you approve of what goes on :) Thanks so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll update again tomorrow but Monday and Tuesday I don't think I'll be able to because I'll be without wifi/ethernet :( So tomorrow and then Wednesday I think. Ok, I'm off now. Thanks guys for reading :)


	8. Chapter VI: Training

**Chapter 6: Training**

We're the first two downstairs, but none of the Gamemakers talk to us. We stand beside each other, but don't touch or talk, just stand and wait. 1 come down, followed by 4, and the rest of the districts filter in over the next quarter of an hour. Finally there are twenty-two of us standing around a raised dais in the middle of the room, waiting only for 12. They arrive in time, looking like teammates in their matching outfits. Cato and I glance at each other, and then my eyes return to scanning the rest of the group.

It's strange to see the field of competitors lined up, listening to this Capitol lady give us instructions. I don't particularly remember faces of people from previous years, but I'm used to seeing them fighting for their lives in the arena. I'd never imagine them standing around scared, waiting for someone to tell them it's all a joke and that they can go home, like half of this group, the notably weaker tributes, is now.

The minute they tell us we're free to move about the room, Cato and I follow our mentors' instructions, heading for the most dangerous looking weapons, showing off a little with the other Careers. We know we'll all be using each other in the arena, but there's nothing against being loud and having a little fun now while we're not all about a minute or a wrong word from fighting to the death. 6, the boy from 3, starts talking to me, telling me about how much of a genius he is with technology and, although it goes against what many other generations of District 2 tributes might decide to do, I make a mental note to tell Cato to keep an eye on him. There's nothing wrong with the Careers adding one or two more non-Careers to the Alliance.

12 stick together, always, no questions. Good. The more the Capitol falls for them, the more likely they are to want them to win as a pair. 22 looks like he'd be a useful ally, but when Cato talks to him he shrugs him off and walks away. Cato and I sit casually beside each other at lunch. 1 sit across from us, 6 is next to me. Growing tired of his constant jabbering, I put a hand on his shoulder blade, lean close to his ear and tell him, "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow." I jerk my head at Cato, who is laughing with 2, indicating that I want to talk to him about it. He swallows and nods, looking like this suggestion that he is at the very least being considered is better than being on his own.

I take to the survival stations after lunch, though subtly. Knots and Camouflage are close to each other so I kill two birds with one stone. I watch 24 work with the paints until his hand looks like it's covered in tree bark and get to have a quick word with 21.

"That's not gonna work," I tell her bluntly, watching her small hands work with a length of rope. It's as kind as I can be without completely giving myself away. She looks up at me, not scared, clearly curious as to why it's not going to work and why I'm helping. Even though she's young and totally at a disadvantage here, she's got more pride than to ask for my help outright.

"Here." I take my rope and loop it around in the same knot as hers, stopping at the part where she's messing up. "Through here, see?" I show her, then tighten the knot and hand her my rope. "Sometimes untying it helps you understand." She looks at my rope, then sets it down and finishes her knot correctly. "But that one won't help you much." I pick up my rope again and begin weaving it into another knot. "Learn to tie this." I hand it to her. "But don't untie that one. I'm not going to come help you again." I stand up to leave. Before I do, I say to her, "Also, learn some snares. Grain has carbohydrates, which break down and give you energy, but you'll need protein from meat as well. Don't eat it raw though; it'll make you sick. Make sure you can start a fire without matches." She just nods and I walk back to the weaponry.

After the second half of the day, Cato and I head back up to our quarters. We sit beside each other at dinner and talk with our mentors, who seemed to have guessed that Cato and I want the same strategy and seem to have decided that they're going to coach us together for the time being.

When dinner's over Cato and I sit closely on one of the plush couches in the living area, more because we want to whisper privately than anything else. He tells me about how he doesn't think 22 will be part of the Alliance, which is unfortunate because 22 is huge and he'd be valuable. Apparently Cato tried more than once to talk to him. I tell him about how 6, though a little annoying, seems to know a lot about explosives, how he's already worked out a way to use things that are sure to be in the arena to make something like TNT, which Cato and I, coming from 2, are very familiar with.

"He didn't tell me what he wants to do, just that he's got an idea."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I wanted to talk to you first. It's sort of expected that you, me, 1, and 4 are allies. I think we should keep 6 around. At the very least, let him ally himself with us. The last thing I want is to have him blow us up."

"Tell him that. Well, no. Tell him he's in."

I nod. We talk about 12 (23 and 24), how they're still teamed up, and we speculate how the Capitol will react to that. Will they address it in their interviews? We'll have to wait. I ask him if he noticed me talking to 21.

"Yeah, I noticed. What did you tell her?"

"I showed her a couple of knots and told her what she should make sure she knows. Did anybody else notice?"

"The Alliance didn't. I made sure. I don't know about the others, but maybe it's not so bad if 22 saw you working with the girl from his district. Maybe he'll change his mind."

"I can't risk it again though. 22 might think it's cute but the Alliance'd see it as weak."

"Yeah. Don't do it again, but it's good that you did it once."

The next two days pass just like the first day. Cato and I spend just as much time observing the other tributes as we do trying to learn something from the trainers. When I point out to Cato how good 24 is with a paintbrush, he shrugs and aims a spear at one of the dummies across the station. We're not always together, but we've sort of set up rotations and every so often we are 'coincidentally' next to each other.

We go to bed early on the night before the private sessions with the Gamemakers. We've talked strategy and both know what the other is going to show them and what number we're aiming for. Nothing higher than a ten. An eleven or a twelve would threaten the others. They're too high. That'd put you on the map of 'people who are dangerous and need to be killed' or 'people who need to die quickly so some of the rest of us get sponsors'.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: I like Clove talking to Rue. It's sweet and eventually ironic but we don't have to talk about that.

Thanks again to Ghanaperu and hungergames98 for their lovely reviews. You guys are so nice to me. And also thank you and I love you to my beta reader Day of Diana. I hope you're doing well, honey. :)

I think this is it until either late Tuesday night of early Wednesday morning so I'll see you guys in a few days :) Let me know what you thought of the chapter.

Oh, real quick, the rating on this story might change from T to M because of the bloodbath in a few chapters. I don't usually change the rating for violence but I don't want the site to get mad at me. I'll ask Day of Diana what she thinks...just a heads up.

~Billy


	9. Chapter VII: We're a Team

**Chapter 7: We're a Team**

"You nervous?" Cato asks me quietly as we sit amongst the group of us who will form the Alliance in the arena, waiting to be called into the gym for our individual sessions with the Gamemakers on the afternoon of the third day of training.

"No. This is all still the easy part," I reply. 1 left a while ago so it'll be Cato's turn soon. He pushes me with his shoulder.

"You and your vast testing abilities."

"Are _you_ nervous?"

He shakes his head. "I'm Cato of District 2, remember?"

I roll my eyes. Since when has he identified with any label given to him by the Capitol?

He ignores my incredulity. In fact I sincerely doubt he noticed, because he continues talking without pausing. "And if it weren't for you, I'd be slated to win this." I stare at him. He realizes what he's just said and backpedals. "That wasn't what I..."

He can't start talking like that. Joking or not, there's no one to impress right now, no cameras to play rivals for. The only tribute I'd bet is paying attention right now is the fox-faced female, 9. What he just said is true and we both know it. If I weren't here, he'd have a simple shot at winning. We're both bitter about the way the reaping turned out, but there's nothing we can do about it.

"You don't have to, you know? I don't want to be the only reason you don't get home." I realize we're having this argument in front of several other tributes, but we're being quiet and they're not. They'll never know what's going on.

"Clove," he begins.

"No," I snap. "You're either in or you're not." I push my chair back, stand up, and walk around the table. Cato's staring at me as I lean against the wall opposite him.

"Cato Armstrong!" calls the woman from the door. He doesn't stand up right away, but continues to stare at me instead. I nod at him, telling him to go.

"Good luck." I don't want him to go in there distracted. "Go on," I mouth at him. Then he stands. I watch him cross the room and enter the gym.

Maybe twenty minutes later, the woman reappears and calls my name. I follow her into the gym. I show off for the Gamemakers. I throw spears, knives, axes. I destroy several of the dummies from across the room. They're still attentive as I'm only the fourth one in here. Identifying berries, camouflaging myself, and tying knots would be boring for them to watch and all the Careers know it, which is why no one ever gets a twelve. eleven and twelve are target numbers anyway.

At the end, they clap and dismiss me. I exit and head up to the District 2 quarters. Cato's there waiting for me outside the elevator. I exhale forcefully. There's no need to conceal my annoyance or be quiet now. The sessions are over. I pass him and head to my room. He follows me to the doorway but doesn't come inside. "What did you say that for?" I burst out, wheeling around to face him.

"I'm in this with you. There's still going to be 'Cato and Clove' in the arena. But you never should have volunteered this year." Maybe that was what he wanted to say earlier but the words got tangled in his head. "It's made this more complicated. That's all I meant. It just got mixed up in my head."

"Oh. It sounded like you were talking like we're competing."

"Of course not."

"Oh," I say again, feeling stupid. Now that I understand what he meant, I feel bad for freaking out and I'm worried I messed him up. "How was your session with the Gamemeakers? Did I distract you? I'm sorry if-"

"Don't. Quit being sorry for everything," he says. "It's fine. I was distracted until I got in there. I figured they need to remember us. They need to want to see us again so I just told myself we'd talk when you got back here.

This only makes me feel worse, but I smile anyway.

"You weren't kidding," I tease, referring to the fact that he had again waited outside a door for me.

"We're okay then?" he asks, but he knows we are because he steps over the threshold and comes to stand in front of me.

"If you're over me overreacting, I'm over you getting tongue-tied."

"Deal." He hugs me tightly, then lifts my feet off the ground and spins me around, making me so dizzy that when he sets me down again, I cling to his arms to keep from falling. When I've regained balance, I back up, brace myself, and run at him from half an arm's length away. He didn't expect me to continue playing so this catches him off his guard and we fall to the floor. 1 are probably wondering what on earth we're up to right now.

We spend the rest of the day playing around. We go out on the large balcony of our floor of the Training Center. There are people below but when we lean our heads out to see them more clearly, something zaps us and we both fall backward onto the ground. I land hard with one hand on my head and one behind me to break my fall. Both the zap and the fall hurt but not terribly. Cato shakes his head and looks back at the edge of the balcony, obviously confused, which makes me laugh. He looks like the typical Career who's had too many blows to the head. He looks back at me. "What?" I ask him.

"Thank you?" He looks back at the edge, now clearly thinking, not just confused. "Want to throw things at it?"

I laugh again, which he apparently takes as a yes. He puts an arm around my waist and pulls me to my feet, lingering a second longer than necessary to be sure I'm steady. "Come on."

We ask an Avox to bring us some grapes and nuts and small snack foods and then we take them out onto the balcony. We sit with our backs against the wall and throw them. They bounce off the transparent stinging shield that's meant to keep us in the Training Center and we try to catch them in our mouths. Sometimes we hit each other with them and it's funny.

Our meetings were fairly early in the afternoon and the airing of the scores isn't until this evening, so we spend nearly six hours doing nothing. Sometimes we just sit and talk or sit and are silent. Sometimes when we hit each other with food we push each other around again, wrestle. It's one of these times, where I'm pinning him down for once, that someone knocks on the door. We jump apart. I'm four feet away from him of my own volition without knowing how I did it.

"What's going on?" asks Brutus.

"Hand to hand combat practice," Cato answers instantly, and launches himself across the space between us and pins me to the ground. Not fair.

"I told her she wouldn't want to end up in the arena with you." He laughs and closes the door. I'm still looking at the door when I feel something tickling the side of my face. Cato's head is very close to mine and the short hair on his forehead is touching me. What? I put a hand over his face and push him off me.

Cato's mentor comes in and we're looking at him, awkward as my hand is still over Cato's face. He gives us a half-amused, half-puzzled look before continuing. "Interviews are tomorrow, so stop practicing and go to the television room. Scram, 3." He addresses me by the number I'd have if Cato and I weren't going into this as 2, District 2, partners. I almost called Cato 4 today because calling him by his name would have been strange in front of all the other tributes, but figured it might've made him perform worse.

Right, the numbers system: Each tribute has two numbers. One of the numbers they share with their fellow tribute from their district. For example, Glimmer and Marvel, the District 1 tributes, are collectively known as 1. Separately, Glimmer is 1 and Marvel is 2. Girls are odd numbers, boys are even. If we talk about both tributes from one district, we call them by the number of their district. If we're just discussing one of them, we call them by their assigned odd or even number. It's a little confusing, but Cato and I keep it straight. It's easier to kill people you only know as numbers anyway. But when we're alone together, we call each other by our names. Cato, not 4. Clove, not 3. We're different.

"Aren't we gonna watch the scores together?" I ask.

"We'll meet you out there. I want to talk to my tribute. Scram.

I make a disgruntled noise to show that I'm annoyed. I don't just want to get up and leave without putting up a fight, but there's not much I can do.

I enter the TV room to find everybody there, the whole team of District 2. Alaia, my prep team, Enobaria, Tuuli, Cato's stylist Sunny, and his prep team. We're only missing Cato and Brutus. I take a seat at the end of the couch and watch some ad on TV. A few images of us, all the tributes at the City Circle, a recap of our names and the announcement that the revealing of the scores will begin in 4 minutes. Of course there's a countdown: This is a mandatory viewing for the entire country of Panem.

Cato and Brutus come out and Cato takes a seat right next to me on the arm of the couch. I look up at him quizzically. "Want to switch?" He shrugs and I stand up, then take his seat when he slides down onto the cushion. Brutus is looking daggers at him and I wonder what that's all about before I notice that Enobaria is pointedly ignoring me. What do they have to be annoyed about? I'll ask Cato what's going on after the scores.

We watch as the scores flash up on the screen, accompanied by a picture of the tribute who earned them. 1 are first with 1 followed by 2. Two nines. Cato and I don't memorize the scores but make mental notes of the tributes who earn noteworthy ones. Cato's first. Ten. Good. High enough to get him noticed by sponsors but not so high that someone like 22 will target him. "Nice," I tell him, holding out my hand, palm up. He hits it and holds on, waiting for my score. Another ten.

"Brilliant." He kisses the back of my hand. This is a new thing for him, and it's especially weird that he's used this gesture twice in four days. He's changed fairly quickly since we got here. He's acting smarter, more thoughtful, and he's kissed the back of my hand twice in four days. I don't understand.

It's about the time that we're watching 12's (that is, the boy from District 6) score flash on the screen that I realize he never let go of my hand. I look down and see my fingers curled around the side of his own. I glance at Brutus, who looks annoyed and uncomfortable. He's now adopted Enobaria's technique of ignoring us. Maybe they don't like that we're still friends here. Maybe that's why we're being so particularly friendly. I go back to watching the scores, gripping his hand tighter.

"Eleven!" Cato exclaims when 23's score flashes up. He lets go of my hand and jumps up, fuming. "Eleven!"

She only beat us by one, but still, she's eclipsed us again. That puts all of us, the entire field, at a disadvantage. I'm angry with her too. This means that she'll be most likely to get sponsors and she'll be targeted from the beginning, which makes everything more difficult for Cato and me because we need her and 24 alive at the very least until the final four. I get up off the arm of the couch and walk back to my room. I shut the door and go lay down on my bed, still fully dressed. Enobaria comes in as I lay down. I sit back up and watch her as she closes the door.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Fine," I answer rather coldly.

"Do you have anything you need me to know? Any new developments with the others? I'm here to give you advice."

"Just... just, do what you can from here. It's on me now to get through."

"Good," she replies, "We're going to train you two separately for your interviews. Wouldn't want you two to look like you're copying 12." I stare at her. "As long as you know that it might not work out, I'll do what I can for you and him."

"How did you-?" I ask.

"We thought by now you two would realize you've got a very slim chance and that you'd take the traditional route. As you haven't asked to be trained separately and you seem to still be close, if we want to help one of you, we'll have to help you both," she answers.

"And you're okay with this?"

"It's not my choice. It's on you two to get through. It's your Games, not mine."

"Brutus is mad about it though?"

"He doesn't want to lose. That's all. He's afraid that you two would be better off in a normal alliance. He's tense too."

"Why don't you see it like that?"

"He doesn't either, really; it's just his excuse. He knows you two are better as a team, but he's worried that the Gamemakers will go after you if you look too much like a team. But you're good separately, the best we've seen, and even better together. You always have been." I lift my head and smile at her. "I'll send Cato in here. He probably wants to talk to you."

"Thanks," I say. She leaves, pulling the door shut. Fifteen seconds later Cato enters, looking concerned.

"What's up?" he asks. I kneel up on my bed. Our eyes are not quite level but I can put my arms around his neck easily and hold onto him.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "I just realized that they're making it impossible..."

"We're Careers," he corrects me, "and we're in this together. Nothing's impossible, not even in the Games."

We head back onto the balcony, grab the bowls we had earlier and throw more food at the barrier. We talk about 12 and how they're making this incredibly difficult and reassure each other that, contrary to what every other tribute has said, we're on the same side. I tell him what Enobaria told me and he tells me that Brutus said almost exactly the opposite. Hm. Well, of our trainers, coaches, and potential mentors, I always liked him least.

We don't realize how tired we are until my head falls onto his shoulder after several minutes of silence. I sit up again immediately, push my hair off my face, mutter a quick, "Sorry. I'm tired. See you in the morning," and return to my room. I change and crawl into bed, pushing the top blanket down to my knees as usual. Twenty minutes later, Cato comes in from the balcony through the sliding glass door in my room. I sit up when I hear him.

He turns to face me and I cock my head to the side, wondering what he's up to. He could just as easily have entered into his room. "I brought you a strawberry," he offers as an explanation.

"What?" That wasn't a sleepy 'what?'; I'm genuinely confused.

"Here." He sits down on the side of my bed and holds out a single strawberry. We hadn't had strawberries earlier. What is he doing?

"Thanks," I say, knowing that's proper social protocol.

"We're a team. You like strawberries."

I smile and bite into it, holding one hand under my mouth so the juice doesn't fall onto the bed. It's good. Refreshing and sweet, but not as cold on my teeth as they usually are.

"You could sleep on my shoulder, you know," he tells me. "It's okay."

"Is that why you came in here? To tell me that?"

"I just wanted to give you a proper goodnight," I nod and take another bite of strawberry. "So... goodnight."

"Goodnight," I answer, "See you in the morning.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: Holy cow! Longest chapter thus far? I think so :) Let me know what you guys thought

Want to know what I realized? I literally come here and read your reviews when I want to smile like a loon. They all make me feel like a good writer and that makes me happy :) So I love you guys. Also, to Day of Diana, I was re-reading the original, pre-edited version last night...holy cow am I glad I sent it to you. It's not terrible but there were a few mistakes that were like "WHAT EVEN?" and you fixed those so I don't look like a total fool. I love you too, dear.

Next chapter will be up...probably tomorrow? It's the interviews.


	10. Chapter VIII: The Interviews

**Chapter 8: The Interviews**

There's not a whole lot of training that we need to do for the interviews. Cato and I have been taught how to manipulate the crowds, though not necessarily how to manipulate them to like both of us equally and as one entity.

"If you bring that up now," Enobaria warns me, "They'll suspect it and do something to keep you two apart in the arena." I nod. I don't know what they could do to keep us apart, considering we'll all be at the Cornucopia on the first day, but I know she's right. She knows their minds. She's not a victor for nothing. "Mind your attitude," she continues, "You want them to like you."

"What, am I not likable with my normal attitude?" I tease her.

"Cato's obviously not bothered by it but the Capitol might be." I nod again. "So mind your attitude. Be sweet to Caesar, cheerful. You can't show them that you resent them for making you go in together. But we're not going for a Johanna Mason here. You're not weak or terrified. You're cheery out here but let them know you'll mean business once you're in the arena. Don't give too much away about your skills." I continue to nod. "Let me know if you have questions. I don't think you'll need too much more instruction from me on the content of your interview. Caesar wants these to go well so follow his lead. Remember, happy here, business and survival in the arena."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna let your stylist take over. That'll be the hard part for you, cooperating with them."

"You have no idea." I hate these Capitol clothes. It's like what Cato and I talked about on the train. They're taunting us and I resent them for it.

"Sure I do." She grins at me, reminding me of her pointy teeth and I promise myself I'll never let anything that permanent touch me.

My prep team enters and does their thing. It's less painful now because there's no need for more wax but still there's at least an hour of basic work. Then Alaia enters carrying a black bag which presumably holds my dress for the interview. It's ridiculous that we get this dressed up for three minutes in the spotlight. I roll my shoulders as she pulls the dress down around my legs. "No peaking," she tells me, "Not until I'm finished." She masks my face with that same sweet smelling powder. Then there's some significant discomfort as she puts a pencil and then a fluffy brush up near my eyes. She keeps telling me where to look and not to move. If I knew what I was doing, I would demand that she let me do it for her, but I don't so I tough it out. At the very end, she puts some tall tight shoes on my feet and helps me up.

"What do you think?" she asks at last, turning me around to face the mirror.

I give myself a good once-over before answering her. She waits slightly anxiously for my response, which I find strange. Despite what she does for a living and how willingly she does it, maybe she'll grow on me. I don't know what to think of the reflection. I'd like to say I look and feel foolish and that the Capitol is full of ridiculous and foolish looking people, but I have to admit that I admire what they can do even without their normal standard of technology. My skin looks darker, maybe two shades darker, kind of bronze colored, or as bronze as skin can get. The pencil and fluffy ink-covered brush made my eyes look much bigger, more dynamic. They pinned my hair up, but left the back and the strands around my face loose and artificially curly. My dress is orange. It's a little low cut for my taste but I just think that that'll remind me to sit up straight and keep my shoulders back. It's fitted from my shoulders to my knees, tight but not uncomfortable, and from my knees down it's flowing. I turn around once on the spot, watching the folds expand with the wind created by my movements.

I look up at Alaia again and smile at her, the first time I've smiled at her ever. "It's wonderful." Maybe a stretch of my personal opinion, but surely that's what anyone from this city would say. "Thank you." She steps closer to me and puts her arms around my neck. This surpasses any discomfort I've encountered this far. _No, wonderful does not mean hug me_. But I hug her back.

"Come on, girls! Hurry up!" Brutus teases us through the door. I disengage her hug, she straightens my dress, and then crosses the room and holds the door open for me to exit ahead of her.

"Well, would you look at you!" Brutus exclaims. They're all dressed up too, but not to the same degree that I am. I feel overdressed and uncomfortable but I stand straight and keep my face calm, maybe even a little happy, as they jabber.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" gushes our escort. "You've done beautifully!" She hugs my stylist and kisses her cheek.

"Her ally doesn't look half bad either," says Enobaria. Brutus looks over at her, annoyed that she's encouraging this. "They look good together."

What? Where's Cato? I turn to look for him.

"Hey, you," he greets me. I smile and take a step back so I can see him fully. He does look nice. His suit is black, as is his tie, though in the right light there are orange and silver streaks running diagonally across it. We're not matching, per say, but complement each other well.

Tuuli allows us a few seconds of standing and looking before she says, "Look at the time! We've got to go! Hurry, now." She doesn't sound panicky, but she's definitely being stern. Cato and I stand still as everyone clears out around us.

"23'll have a hard time outshining you tonight," he tells me quietly once we're alone. Since when does he talk like this? First at the chariot, now, and both times what he's said has been perfect. Right on cue, exactly the words I need to hear. I wish I could say something clever back to him, but can't. I step closer to him, take hold of his wrists for balance, and stand as tall as I can to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you," I say, my hands now moving to straighten his tie, which doesn't need straightening. I feel like my reply wasn't sufficient, and neither is what follows. "Good luck tonight."

"Come on, you two!" Brutus calls to us. "Tuuli's about to have a meltdown."

We ride the elevator down again, below ground level to the stage where the interviews will take place. The tributes stand silently before the show starts. Cato never asked me if I was nervous, but if he had, I might have told him yes. I'm excellent with survival, but not always an excellent talker. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm good at it, I just don't like it. I remind myself here though, that the only other tributes who might rival my public speaking abilities are District 1 and Cato. They taught us at home how to win over the Capitol.

Once the crowd is assembled and lighting and sound are ready, Caesar Flickerman takes the stage. He greets the studio audience, the Capitol, and the rest of Panem, then presents us, the tributes. Between each name there are loud cheers or polite applause. I keep smiling the whole time the entire pool of tributes are onstage, then find relief in the fact that I can sit down again to await my interview. I'm not off camera though, so I sit straight, head up, shoulders back, and keep a calm, politely interested look on my face.

"Please welcome our female tribute from District 2, Clove Harper!" Caesar says as 2 walks back to his seat. I have to walk past Cato to get back to center stage. We lock eyes briefly as I pass and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. I nod too, though more to myself than to him, and put a big smile on my face as Caesar bows and kisses my hand. "Welcome!" He beams up at me. "Please, take a seat." He gestures to the chair next to his and keeps a gentle hold on my hand until I'm seated.

"Now tell me, Clove," he begins, cutting right to the chase. Three minutes go by quickly, as he knows better than anyone else. "Your parents are masons in District 2, are they not? They don't work in Defense?"

"That's right. They work in the quarries, excavating rock that helps build things all over Panem," I answer.

"Yet you volunteered to be this year's tribute? And, might I add, your reaping was one of the most dynamic we've seen. How very, very brave! And against all odds, you earned yourself a ten?"

Oh, _that's_ the angle he's playing for me. I've got this. "What kid in 2 wouldn't kill for the opportunity to be up here right now?" Enobaria will either love my play on words, or kill me for it. I disregard that though and continue, "I guess I just wanted it the most this year. Half of earning your spot on the stage in 2 is the desire for it. And the ten wasn't the Gamemakers' way of being nice to me. I earned that ten, but I won't say how just yet."

"I'm sure you did. But let's talk about the arena for a moment. What are you thinking? Give us some insight into your plan of action. Are you confident? Are you concerned about your competition? Even your fellow District 2 tribute poses a threat to you in the arena." He's inviting me to brag, to present myself to the Capitol, to any sponsors.

"We're survivors in 2," I answer him. "We're built for this."

I can't tell them about the training we undergo as children because not all of Panem knows that some of the Peacekeepers come from 2 and it's technically illegal to train for the Games, but then again, where would the Games be without 1, 2, and 4 training their kids? There wouldn't be at least six of us a year who know what we're doing. You'd see 24 scared kids running around trying to avoid each other and the traps set in the arenas. Only the luckiest one would be victor.

I continue, "Of course I'm confident. As for the competition, I've got it sorted, Cato included. Give me some credit will you?" I tease. The audience and Caesar laugh. "What's he gonna do to me?" I see the big screen change from my face to Cato's. He's smirking as if he knows he'd beat me and sees this challenge as a joke. "Tell you what, Panem, if you want to see a good fight, make sure the two of us are the top two. I have no worries if it comes to that. I can take him. You'll definitely see me again, Caesar. In person, not just on the screen."

He smiles like this makes him happy, which it might. Maybe, under different circumstances, when we're not both faking for the cameras, we'd get along. "Glad to hear it. Is there anything you want to say to District 2? Your friends and family back home? They're certainly watching now."

"Absolutely. When I see you again, 2, I'll be where Enobaria, Brutus, Lyme, and everybody else are, and we'll be unbeatable."

Caesar keeps his camera ready smile on his face, takes my hand in his and kisses it gracefully. "I'm sure you will be," he says. "Thank you, Clove, and I'm sure I speak for all of Panem when I say I wish you the best of luck." I give him a big smile. The bell rings.

I hope I've done well.

I let the back of my hand brush subtly against Cato's sleeve as we cross paths. It looks like an accident if they see it at all, but it's comforting for us. They say you need five meaningful touches a day. That's one, maybe two if you count me kissing him earlier. Okay. I sit down next to 2 and listen to Cato's interview. He's nice, charming, but not being too obvious about the fact that he wants to charm the country. He tells Caesar outright that the Capitol can expect quite a show from him. He smiles a lot and it looks genuine probably to everyone who didn't train with him. He's got nothing in particular right now to smile about, but he's up there grinning like a loon. He teases me back too from his seat onstage.

"And Clove? How do you see her?" Caesar asks.

"We'll be allies in the arena for sure, at least for a while. After the alliance breaks though, bring it on, Clove. Let's see what you've got!" I laugh but they can't hear it, as my microphone's been turned off. The guys are probably getting a kick out of seeing us up here. I realize I'm smiling thinking about them and inwardly roll my eyes at myself.

9 seems smart. She's spent tons of time at the survival stations. 6 is nervous and twitchy but tells the Capitol he knows what he's doing. 21 is sweet, cute, floaty. The odds are not in her favor, but maybe someone will sympathize with her and sponsor her. 22 is brooding, barely responds to Caesar's questions and leaves without really acknowledging the audience. 23 is annoying. Maybe she thinks she's amusing or cute or girly but Cato and I look at each other out of the corners of our eyes and decide that even if she's going to be useful to us, we don't like her. 24 is a genius with words. It's undeniable. He moves the crowd effortlessly with the things he says. He's amusing, friendly, and for some strange reason asks Caesar to sniff him. I have to fight hard not to laugh because even Caesar is shocked, at first.

When he says, "Because she came with me," I don't know what to think. 23 looks shocked, which is appropriate, because she was apparently not informed. I should be annoyed at them for stealing any attention off any of the rest of us yet again, and I am to an extent. But I also appreciate 24 so willingly and unknowingly playing into our plan, for once. Some small part of me, the part farthest from the Games, farthest from the reaches of the Capitol, the same part of me that is determined to see Cato and me out of this together alive, feels sorry for him. If he's telling the truth (and he might be because why else would he do her that kind of favor?) it's got to feel miserable going into this figuring you're going in alone.

Then the interviews are over. Caesar makes some closing remarks, the giant screen flashes pictures of all our faces again, particularly the faces of 23 and 24, and the crowds continue to roar. We can't hear them in the elevator, but when we get off on our floor the sound comes back, dimmed by distance.

Disclaimer: Don't own  
AN: Figured I'd give you guys a chance to read 8 because it's fairly long, as is this one :) Also, hungergames98 and Ghanaperu, sorry for the lack of shoutout last time but I didn't just want to randomly write your names in somewhere haha. Also, have I scared you guys with my talk of potentially changing the rating? That wasn't my intention. I just don't want to get in trouble with the site so maybe I'll put an AN at the beginning of Chapter 11 so you guys know it's the Bloodbath from the eyes of a Career who stayed through the whole thing.

Thanks again for all you support :) It means the world to me. I'll probably post again Sunday because tomorrow I'm mad busy all day!

~Billy


	11. Chapter IX:The Last Night in the Capitol

**Chapter 9: The Last Night in the Capitol**

We sit on the balcony again tonight. It's our last night before entering the arena. We're enjoying our last few hours before we start having to sleep with one eye open. "We should go to bed early," I say. "We need a full night's sleep. Drink a lot of water." But I don't move. It was just an observation.

"No matter what," he says, "No matter what happens, we're in this together, right?"

I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "We're a team." I repeat his words of the other night.

"You could sleep on my shoulder," he tells me again. I can hear the smile in his voice as he jokes with me.

"Maybe I will in the arena but I'll sleep in my bed. It'll be the last one I see for the next week or so." I open my eyes again and look up at the sky. Cato, Caleb, and I always notice the stars at home. I don't know why I haven't noticed that the lights here in this city drown them all out. Maybe I'm just realizing how different this place is from home. The Capitol values flash and wealth; we value nature, the things you can learn from what was here long before any of us. The Capitol thinks it's powerful, so it drowns out the stars, the only things that prove there's something greater than they are. It must be comforting for Snow and the rest of the people, thinking they pulled one over on the sky. "I can't see the stars." At first, it made me feel claustrophobic, trapped here by the might of the Capitol, but now it's almost amusing. Like 'Fill the night sky with your lights so I can't see mine anymore, but the sun's still going to rise whenever time tells it to and there's nothing you can do about it.'

"I know. I noticed a few days ago," says Cato.

"You didn't say anything."

"No. I didn't want to remind you how far we are from home."

There's a beat before I answer. "You could've. You don't have to look after me." It's probably safer for him if he doesn't. He needs to take care of himself.

"Says the one who volunteered like a crazy person at the reaping. Maybe watching out for each other is why we're going to be a good team."

"The best team." I sit up again. "If you get to look after me then I get to tell us to go to sleep."

"Ok. Goodnight." I stand up, head into my room, change, and have just lain down when Cato slides the door open. I'm curled up with the fluffy blanket in my arms but I sit up and look at him when I hear the door. I cock my head to the side and give him a slightly confused grin.

"Did you bring me another strawberry?"

He sits down on my bed, extends his hand and gives me the strawberry. I take it but keep my eyes on him, waiting for him to speak. "I just wanted to tell you to take care of yourself tomorrow. Even if we're looking out for each other, make sure you're ok. I will be if you are. Before you go after anyone or try to keep either of 12 safe, protect yourself."

"We're Careers," I answer, "Self-preservation is what we're practically bred for." He looks like he's about to speak but I continue, "I know what you mean though. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. We probably won't be near each other when we get into the arena but we'll meet up. Promise we'll meet up." He grins at me, raises his right hand to his lips, kisses his index and middle fingers and holds them up to me. I copy him, touch the tips of my fingers to his. It's not a replacement for a kiss, but it's our version of swearing to do something. Instead of drawing blood, we do this.

"I promise," he says. "Eat your strawberry. I'll see you tomorrow." Our fingers separate as he stands up.

"Goodnight," I tell him as he reaches the door.

"We already said that," he teases, "but goodnight again."

...

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: So I've just realized how very very short this chapter is. As a result, I might post the next one tonight :) which would be a huge deal. I never do two chapters in one day.

Also, amendment, the Bloodbath is Chapter 12, not Chapter 11, but if I post chapter 10 today you'll be waiting the same amount of time for 12 anyway.

Also, thank you too all my lovely reviewers. TwilightCharmedFaie/Guest (haha) hungergames98, Ghanaperu, and Masilee Survived you guys are fabulous :) and I appreciate all your words.


	12. Chapter X: Alaia and Enobaria

**Chapter 10: Alaia and Enobaria**

I wake up feeling slightly sick, nauseas, and sweaty, and it takes me a minute to remember why. When I remember that launch is in just a few hours (it's barely five in the morning but I know I won't sleep anymore), the nausea increases. Stupid blanket! I push it away from me, swing my legs off the bed and walk to the bathroom. I drink some water and splash some on my face, trying to cool myself down, but eventually I realize this isn't that kind of nausea.

Once I get the offensive taste out of my mouth, I take the hair tie out of my hair, strip down and shower. Everything feels strange. I'm still here in this room with all these extravagant things but I'll be in the arena, sleeping with one eye open for the next few weeks. I don't pay attention to the temperature of the water.

I sit wrapped in a fluffy towel untangling my hair myself. I don't know whether the arena will be hot like Distict 2 is right now or freezing like it is in the winter. If it's hot, it'll be good to have my hair wet, but if it's freezing, that could make me miserable. After I've untangled my tresses, I dry them just in case.

It doesn't matter what I wear to the arena. We'll all be provided with the same clothes at the launch. Wouldn't want anyone to have an unfair advantage. I wish I had my own clothes from home, the clothes I wore hiking with Cato. Maybe the material's itchy and of poor quality compared with this Capitol stuff, but it's comfortable to me. I pull on a T-shirt and pants and sit on the end of my bed, my arms around my stomach.

There's a very soft knock on my door. It's not even 5:30 yet and launch isn't until later. I wonder who else is awake. Whoever it is knocks again. I rise and go to the door. When I pull it open, Cato's standing there, looking like he's just done the same things I have. "Can I come in?" I nod, turn around, walk back to my bed, and sit down on it. He closes the door and follows me. "How are you?" he asks.

"Nervous, for once," I answer truthfully. He sits down beside me, puts one arm around my shoulders.

"We're Careers. We've trained forever for this." I sigh, knowing he's right. "We'll be alright. No matter what, we're a team, right?"

But another thought has just returned to my brain. "Even if we're the top two?" What if they don't fall for 12 the way we want them to? What if we end up top two and the Capitol has done nothing. We can't force them to do anything in their own Games, in the arena where the control everything.

He rubs my arm as he answers. "We'll be the top two, and yes, even then."

We sit silently for a minute or two, thinking. "What are we gonna tell them? They won't let us both out."

"That's what we're using 12 for, isn't it? And if that doesn't work..." That's exactly my problem. What leverage do we have over them? "If they won't take both of us, then they can't have either." I think about this. He's not promising to die so that I can get out. Thank goodness for that. I don't think I could live with the guilt. He's promising solidarity. Every decision we make from here will be made as a team, for the good of the team. We're smart. Wait - solidarity?

"You mean suicide?"

"If we won't kill each other and they won't let us out of the arena as a team, that's the only alternative." I pause and think this through.

"They'd hate us for it. The Capitol would."

"We'd be dead." It's very simple.

"Ok," I tell him. "Ok. We're a team. We'll get out together no matter how." Another thought occurs to me and I vocalize it before I have time to decide whether or not it's a good idea. "I wouldn't want to go home without you. It wouldn't be the same." He looks at me and for once I don't know why. Then he puts his other arm around me and I rest my head on his arm and he puts his chin on my head. It's nice to have something solid and alive to lean against while I wait. It's much better than trying to calm myself down.

We can see the sun beginning to rise when there's another soft tap on my door. I've about fallen asleep on his shoulder, which is ridiculous because sleeping sitting up is not comfortable. I make some noise to tell Cato that I'm going to stand up and get the door. He moves the arm that's in front of me and picks his head up to allow me to stand. I turn, mess up his hair, and go to the door.

Alaia is standing there, beaming as usual. I stand back to allow her to enter. "Oh," she says upon seeing Cato. "Hello there. Sunny's probably looking for you. Maybe you should go meet him."

He looks at her, then at me like, 'You're going to tell me to leave? What do you think?' I take a deep breath, then tell him, "If he's looking for you, you should go meet him. We're not gonna be able to go into the arena together. I'll see you later, ok?" He nods, crosses to me, squeezes my shoulder and leaves.

'You look ready to go," Alaia says, watching me look at the door.

"Yeah," I say. "I've been up for a while." I don't mean to sound cold.

"The hovercraft isn't quite here yet. I came a little early to get you up and ready."

"You didn't have to." My voice has gone oddly flat. I sit on the end of my bed again.

"Look," Alaia says, dropping her trademark cheeriness and kneeling in front of me. She takes my hand in both of hers. "You're one of a kind, you know? I've never met another tribute like you. I know you don't like it here and I know you don't like me. But please know I've done everything I can to help you." I look up at her at that. "I'm sorry if it's been insufficient. I'm sorry they're doing this to you and Cato. I hope you remember me for this, now, not as just one more Capitol citizen."

I look at her, so stunned that my mouth has fallen open. I don't know what to say but now that she's said all that, I feel an apology is in order from me too. "I'm sorry if I've treated you poorly. It's the Capitol and the Games, not you. Not all the kids from my district are like me." Even if I hate many people at home right now, I feel as if I owe it to them to tell her that. There are better people than me at home. Nicer people. People who would appreciate her.

"They should be. I really hope to see you and Cato both again, in person, not on the screen and I think that if either of you have anything to say about it, I'll get to. You two care about each other." Who knew she was so perceptive? I think she might have the wrong impression of our relationship, but she is right, I care about him and if I can, I'll make sure we get home together.

We leave my room and go get breakfast. She knows quite a bit about food, probably from determining what to eat that won't make her gain weight and ruin her figure. She's been born and raised in the Capitol and it's made an impression on her, but I will remember her for this morning, not for the way I judged her at the beginning.

Enobaria joins us. "Nervous?" she asks, taking a seat next to me and a roll off the table.

"Were you nervous?" I ask. She did win this once. Maybe even the future victors are nervous at the beginning.

"Oh yeah." It's a genuine answer. "I was so nervous I was sick- this doesn't leave this room- but you have a teammate. I was going in alone. Also, final words of advice: Remember who your audience is: the Capitol. They still have to like you. Remember that the Gamemakers control everything in the arena. And you and Cato are a good team. Stick together. I won't wish you luck. It won't help much in there." She says instead, "Much success."

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: I don't know how the pre-arena stuff got so long. 20,000 words? Jeez. Anyway, here's the second chapter I promised you for today. It's longer this time...obviously. Tomorrow's chapter is regular length, a little less than 1,000 words and it'll probably be posted around midday. I'll try and post chapter 12 early in the morning on...Tuesday even though it should be posted early on a Monday because the games started on a Monday, didn't they?

Thanks again to Ghanaperu (their swear isn't used very often but it is supposed to be similar to the D12 goodbye. I'd tell you whether or not this is an AU story but then you'd anticipate what I tell you and it'd ruin the suspense) and also to Noelia (You're so nice to me. I'm in your same boat, needing to read so much Cato and Clove) :) 3 So much love...

Also, thank you Day of Diana again :) She's the one who came up with 'tresses'. Her vocabulary is so expansive. I love you, dear, and it's good to hear from you again.

~Billy


	13. Chapter XI: Launch

**Chapter 11: Launch**

I can't move as the woman jabs me in the arm with a needle. I feel the little metal piece slide into place. When the ladder releases me, I wait for Alaia who joins me a minute later. An Avox guides us into a room where we find more food laid out. I can only hope food will be this abundant in the arena. "You don't look well. Can I get you something?" Alaia asks me.

"I don't want to go," I admit. I shouldn't. I shouldn't be feeling nervous at all for this. None of the other tributes will pose a threat to me and I'm not afraid to kill them. Maybe it's only natural to be nervous before everything in your life goes completely public. I tell myself that's the problem and continue talking. "But since there's no way I can avoid this, I just want to get into the arena. Waiting is miserable." She nods. "Oh. Just water would be fine. Thanks."

"Ok. I'll be right back." She stands, walks around the table to a pitcher of water and before she's back beside me, we take off. She fills my glass and hands it to me. I distract myself with thoughts that relate to the Games, but not directly to the fact that I am now a part of them. Do they really have twenty-four hovercrafts flying from the Training Center to the arena? Isn't that expensive? If it is they don't care. Doesn't that use up fuel? They should care about that because fuel wars were part of what caused the fall of North America and the Old World. I wonder if Caleb could fly this thing. Probably. I miss him, then tell myself to stop it. _Missing home won't get you there faster. Drink water. _

The windows go black and I can no longer distract myself because I know we're approaching the arena now. I breathe and tell myself to be calm. Alaia descends the ladder first and is waiting for me in the catacombs below the arena. We have to walk quite a distance before we get to my launch room. I look around as we walk, trying to begin mapping the arena, looking at the ceiling to see if maybe it's different in certain parts but it's no good. We're much too deep for that to be effective.

There's more waiting in the launch room. Alaia helps me dress, well, holds clothes for me while I dress myself. "Is the Capitol really as good to its citizens as it pretends to be to us?" I ask as we sit beside each other on one of the couches. "Is that why they don't see how wrong this is?"

She takes her time in answering and is quiet when she finally does. "I never knew until I met you how perfect life is there, how disgustingly perfect. Citizens are happy... and if they're not, their problems are trivial compared with the problems you face. I don't think it really crosses their minds that tributes actually die. If parents in the Capitol could think from the point of view of parents of tributes, things might be different."

"They don't view us as people." She doesn't answer, but it wasn't a question. "Well, they should. Will it help me and Cato if they view us as people?"

"Some citizens might sympathize with you if you play your cards right. Others will be worried you're weak. If you want to win them both over, you have to show them that you're people doing whatever it takes to survive, even if you feel guilty about it later. But if you try that, the Gamemakers might not be happy about it."

"And they control everything in there."

Now comes the announcement for the tributes to make their final preparations. One minute to launch. "It's ok," she tells me and herself. "I'll keep helping you from this end, alright? I can't place money but I'll get friends to. You'll be fine." She flings her arms around me in a tight hug. "I'll help you."

"Thank you." I hug her back. One of my hands is on her shoulder blade, her blue hair falling across the back of my hand. It's soft and feels just like mine. Real. "Maybe we don't think of you guys as real people either." I voice my thoughts in a hushed voice without making the decision to.

"No!" she says, letting go and holding me at arm's length. "Don't think like that. Not right now. You focus on you. Stay safe. Get yourself home."

15 seconds.

"Thank you." My voice is practically a whisper as I back into the tube. It immediately closes and all sound stops. Alaia's teeth are gritted, like she's holding back tears. "I'm a Career," I say to her, hoping she can read my lips. "See you soon."

Instinctively when I feel the plate begin to rise I put my hands on the glass. Maybe to steady myself, maybe in a last ditch effort to stop what's about to happen.

The Bloodbath.

It's completely dark for about 15 seconds, and then I'm blinking in sunlight. Even as Claudius Templesmith's voice booms around me, announcing the start of the one minute before the gong, I'm scanning the Cornucopia. I can't see very well, but I blink several times scanning the mouth for something useful. Knives. I see them, closer to me than anyone else. They're meant for me. The Gamemakers know I'll stay and fight; they don't need to provoke me by putting my weapon of choice far away. With that in mind, they put them close, knowing I'll do damage with them.

Where's Cato? I look at the tributes, searching for him. We make eye contact and nod at each other.

Careful not to step off the circle, I position my feet to run. They taught us how to take a firm footing in only two feet of space. It prepared us for this moment.

Ten,

Nine,

Eight...

... my heart is pounding in my ears but I can still hear Claudius. I wonder what they must be thinking in the Capitol. _No. You focus on you. Stay safe. Get yourself home. _Alaia's words ring in my ears again.

Three,

Two,

One...

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: so midday...haha sorry. I've been meaning to post this all day but I've also been editing later chapters very busily.

Thank you all again for your lovely reviews. It was really exciting to wake up this morning to three new reviews from hungergames98, (I'm kind of a little nervous to post the arena stuff because that's where it gets really intense, but I'm hoping I do it justice) Ghanaperu (see, I told you there was more Alaia and Clove talking in this chapter), and TwilightCharmedFaie (I'm glad the pact doesn't come off as too strong or something. Sometimes I worry about that). You're fabulous and Day of Diana I love you a whole lot. You're so nice to me.  
~Billy


	14. Chapter XII: The Bloodbath

**Hey, pre-chapter disclaimer. This is the Bloodbath from the perspective of a Career who stayed through the entire thing. This chapter is the reason the story is currently rated M. It gets pretty violent. You've been warned. **

**Chapter 12: The Bloodbath**

My footing is good. The boots they've provided have grooves in the soles that grip the metal circle and give me a strong start. I'm small so the kid on my right thinks he can overpower me. He crashes into me, hard, tries to wrap his arms around my waist to bring me to the ground. _Ha, no!_ I bring my right arm back, elbow him in the face, and hear him grunt with pain.

He's slowed me down some, but I still reach the knives I want. There are already shouts around me. I turn. _Good, 23, get into trouble on the first day._ I'm not picky about the knife I choose but send it flying into 18's back. I see 23's face spattered with blood, then watch 18 fall to the ground. I've never killed a person before this moment. The trainers wanted us to be well-liked by everyone in the District. If we were the ones who executed criminals, the families of the people would hate us. I see 23 look at me. She's holding the bright orange pack they had been fighting over and standing dead still, fear in her eyes.

I run at her, yelling like a crazy person and brandishing my handful of knives and she flees, pulling the straps of the pack over her shoulders as she goes. I'm more careful about the knife I choose now. She'll need something good for cutting things other than flesh. Something serrated. She holds the pack up to protect her head and the knife sticks in it. _You're welcome and you'd better not come back and stab me with that. _There are no cannons thus far. That's policy on the first day. There's enough chaos that cannons right now would only detract from the blood.

I kill the kid who attacked me earlier, 10. I kill him face-to-face though and only after he starts our fight up again. I don't know where he was in the meantime, but he's found a weapon of his own, a heavy ornately-decorated club. He runs at me, yelling, trying to scare me. I can't help but smirk as I duck his blow and stick him in the leg with the knife in my right hand. He yells again, though this time in pain and fear. Stupidly, he drops the club as his hands fumble to staunch the flow of blood from the femoral vein I've just severed. The club catches me across the back, but it isn't painful and I stand up quickly, his head level with my navel as he's fallen to his knees. Instinctively, 10 is begging me not to hurt him anymore. It registers somewhere in my brain, but there's no time to let it stop me. He cries and curls up to protect his already injured leg and with one blow to the back of his head, I damage his brain stem enough that he's dead before he hits the ground.

It's not difficult for me. I've trained for this my whole life. My expertise is in knife throwing, but as a Career who was set to win the Games, I'm one of the elite. Proficient in everything from weaponry to survival in the wild and with the mentality of one who, when necessary, can kill with no sympathy. Cato's the same, better actually as far as the Capitol is concerned because he's more violent.

18 is the exception. He was my first kill, the one to break the ice, and he died without ever even knowing who killed him. Somewhere deeper than the part of my brain I used to kill 10, I recognize that that was indecent and I resolve not to throw again without first seeing the victim's eyes. I don't want to watch them die but I don't want to kill them without provocation like I killed 18. Numbers or not, they have a right to know who's killing them. The hovercraft hasn't picked 18's body up yet. His blood is staining the grass. _Move on, Clove. The fewer people in this arena, the closer you and Cato are to home._ That's why all this has to go so quickly. The more people who escape the bloodbath, the more we have to hunt down and therefore, the longer we're in the arena.

Cato and I stay within sight of each other, barring the times when we do quick spins or turns to throw off an opponent. There's one point, when he's fighting 12, (the boy from District 6, not 23 and 24) when 14 tries to attack him from behind. I'm too panicked to remember that, at the beginning of the Bloodbath, I did just what 14 is trying to do. Perhaps mercilessly, I throw, bringing my right arm to my left shoulder, then quickly snapping it back, releasing perfectly, with my fingers extended, pointing to his throat. They always told me to point where I'm throwing. "The knife goes where your fingers tell it to go." Cato looks confused as he drops 12's body on the ground. His head follows my knife and we both watch it skewer 14 through the Adam's apple. "Watch yourself." I tell Cato. He just grins at me, reaches down, removes the knife, cleans it, and tosses it back to me.

All in all, eleven are dead by the time the Bloodbath is over. Many of the tributes, including 20-23 took off. So did 9 and 15. 1 are covered blood and very little of it is their own, 6 has just tried to stay out of harm's way, I'm sporting a split lip from a brief spat with 11 which ended with Cato pulling her away from me and cutting her throat. The front of my red shirt is spattered with blood from 10 and 11. It's stickier than sweat, but I try not to notice it. Still, I want a shower.

Strangely enough, 24 has hung around and done some damage by the looks of things. He's handy with a knife. Not like me. I doubt he can throw, but he seems to understand the concept of "slice don't stab" better than most. I see him kill 8. _What? He killed a Career? _7 about loses her head, but when she charges him, he catches her and holds her still, his knife at her throat. He doesn't kill her though. She's yelling at us to help her but I don't throw and give a signal to both 1s to wait as well. "What are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Scared?" 2 taunts him. 7 swears at him screaming at all of us to kill him, telling us we shouldn't be testing this kid with her life. She claws at 24's arm but he's too strong for her.

"I want in on the Alliance," 24 says. It's an ultimatum. Either we let him in or he'll cut her throat.

"Where's your pretty friend?" 2 ignores what he's said. It's just us now, 1, Cato and me, 6, and 7. Everyone else is either dead or gone.

"You know as much as I do. She probably knows better than all of us." He indicates me by fleetingly taking the knife off 7's throat and pointing the tip at me. 1 look at me. 7 even stops struggling for a minute to stare. "I can help you track her," he offers. "But you have to say I'm in." This could throw everything into jeopardy. Cato and I glance at each other. He can't betray her. No. They're a team. They're supposed to be in love. Hm. Maybe he'll show the Capitol, but not us, that he's trying to help her? This would be the one time I'd be ok with being betrayed. 1 look at Cato for instructions.

"He knows her better than we do. He'll know how to track her. Don't touch him. You're in, 24." We see his muscles relax and he pulls the knife away from 7's throat. Before she can turn to hit him, he shoves her forward. 2 catches hold of her before she hits the ground, but she's just as angry with him as she is with 24 and she shoves him away with the heels of her palms digging into his chest.

Somebody's already touched 24 though, or several somebodies. He's bruised and bloody already and when he walks away toward the Cornucopia, I notice a limp. Not a pretty combination after only the first day. "Clean up. We'll make camp here, then take weapons and find the others," Cato instructs us.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: So I've been advised to up the rating on this so that's what I'm gonna do until someone tells me it's not M worthy. Also, sorry I didn't update yesterday. I wanted this to go up early in the morning but that actually makes no sense. Ch11 should have been up at like 5am and this should be up at like 10 if we're going for realistic here but...ah well.

Anyway, to my lovely reviewers, you're wonderful. Thank you for your support. Ghanaperu (Yes! That was the goal! You're totally supposed to sympathize with Cato and Clove by the end of this (which I write at the end of the bloodbath chapter? ok.) I totally agree. It's so wrong that we have to pick at all because I love all four of them. And Rue. I hope you enjoyed reading my first bit of arena material.) and hungergames98 (If it makes you feel better there's like at least 25 more chapters of this...well that's including something I shan't write about just yet but basically what I'm sayin' is that there's a lot more to read so you don't have to be lost. D'aww, I'm glad you love Clato too. They're the best) and Day of Diana my lovely beta reader, I love all of you very much!


	15. Chapter XIII: 24

**Chapter 13: 24**

I start removing knives from fallen tributes, passing my hand over their eyes as I do so. Dead or not, they're looking at me and I don't like it. 24 is sitting on top of a heavy metal case, trying to bandage his cut arm. It's not a pretty cut either, jagged and deep from what I can see even at this distance. If that gets infected and he never gets back to 23...I sigh, then approach him. "Need some help with that?" He glares at me, suspicious. I glare back. "Tell you what, if that gets infected and you pass out, no one will carry you. You'll die of the infection, exposure, some animal..." Take your pick. "I'd be doing you a favor."

"That's what I'm worried about. People don't do other people favors in here."

"Calm yourself. I'm not administering medicine. I'm wrapping your arm in a bandage. We're allies, at least for now. Having you alive means that my night shift will be shorter. I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible. So how about you do us both a favor and let me wrap your arm?" I snatch the bandage from him, but wait for his consent. He seems to weigh his options in his head, then obligingly holds out his arm. "You're welcome."

"You too." Oh, a wise guy! How clever!

"Hang on a sec." Cato's behind me. "Put this on it." He gives me a bottle of clear liquid. "Peroxide."

Oh good. Like 24 will consent to this. I open the bottle. "Smell," I tell him. He does, then I tip the bottle and let a few drops of peroxide fall onto my hand. I dab that on my cut lip. "Peroxide," I explain. "It'll sting but it'll clean the wound. Want it?"

"Fine." I hide my surprise, tear off part of bandage, fold it in half, let some peroxide fall onto it, then press it to his arm. It takes several seconds before the moderate stinging pain registers with him. I see it in the way his jaw tightens.

"Why are you helping us track her, anyway?" I ask. Sometimes talking about something totally unrelated helps and this seems like a perfectly valid question. "I thought you two were in love." I remove the gauze pad from his arm and wait for the fizzing to stop.

"Why didn't you question Cato when he handed you the peroxide? You didn't sniff it. You just took it. You trust him." _Hey! You're not supposed to catch onto that kind of stuff! And if you do, you're not supposed to say it out loud! Fool!_ "Being with you guys is the best chance I have of staying alive to help her." I look up at him, holding the partly-wrapped bandage in place. It's actually kind of clever. Say something that's so painfully true that no one will believe him. He's crazy but by the end of this, Cato and I are sure to be crazy too.

"I'm gonna pretend that was a joke," I tell him coldly, though I could hug him for that right now, "But I don't recommend you tell it to anyone else. They aren't nearly as nice as me."

"True. They didn't tell everyone to stop when I had the girl from 4." _Brilliant, 24. Just brilliant_.

"What happened to your hands?" I ask. They were bandaged before he even entered the fight. "They weren't like that last night at the interviews."

"I had an accident." _Thanks for being so specific_. Well, he doesn't have to be. It's smarter, actually. The less I know about him, especially about his injuries, the safer he is.

"Smart kid," I tell him.

"How is he?" Cato asks. He walked away earlier and is now standing over 24's shoulder.

"He'll be fine," I answer. I'm no qualified medic but I know enough to know that 24's able to travel. "Keep that knife on you."

"Because I'm going to walk around unarmed in here." I grin at his actual joke and stand up.

Eleven died at the bloodbath. There are seven of us in the Alliance so we're looking for six of our fellow tributes: 9, 15, 20, 21, 22, 23. Since when do the outer Districts have so many tributes who make it through the bloodbath?

"I say we split up," 2 is saying, clearly trying to assume the leadership role. I'm sure that'll work out for him. Cato and I are in charge. "Some of us should go track down that kid from 11."

"Be my guest," I tell him. "I don't know about you but I'm not tracking that kid, certainly not alone."

"You scared, District 2?" He sneers at me. I run my fingers along the handle of the knife in my right hand, but I don't throw. _Keep calm_.

"No. Just not stupid." _Keep calm and give him the most smart ass answer you can muster. _ He snarls and starts toward me, but Cato puts the point of a spear on his chest and he stops. _Good boy. Learn your rank._ "He's been gone for two hours." I continue. "If he's smart, he's mapped the field already and could ambush anyone who goes near it. I'll stick with the woods if you want to track that."

"Shouldn't we stick together anyway? How are we gonna find each other if we split up? Coming all the way back here's gonna be way out of the way." 24 speaks up, unusual for a non-Career addition.

"What do you know, Lover Boy?" 1 snarls at him. _Good girl. Back up your fellow tribute._

I decide to help him out. "That's smart. We've not got that many to track down anyway. Why not just stick together. Leave what supplies we can't carry here with 6 and travel with what we need for making a camp at some point tonight to find the others."

"Right? We'll need all of us to take the boy from 11, won't we?" I look at 24. Now he's just rubbing it in.

"Thanks, 24." My tone tells him to be quiet. "Are we good then? Stick together until we get the other six out of the way. Then split off?" 2 tries to push Cato's spear away but Cato grabs the front of his shirt and holds him still.

"Answer her."

"Fine." Cato eases up on his grip around the kid's collar. 2 shoves him and steps back at the same time, embarrassed and flustered. Careers are bred to be leaders. Taking orders is going to be miserable for him.

"What about the supplies?" asks 7. "What if a bunch of the others come back to pick stuff off? How is he going to stop a them?" He is smaller and significantly less talented than any of us when it comes to combat.

"6?" He's been crouching beside on of the metal plates in the ground since the end of the fighting, examining something, but he looks up at me. "You've got a plan to keep the stuff safe, right?"

"I..." he doesn't look one hundred percent sure and stops before he can get more than that out. Maybe he's scared he'll lose his bargaining chip with me if he can't produce instant results.

"We're not gonna hurt you. You're still valuable. We've been in here for less than four hours. If you don't have a plan yet, stay here with 7 and figure it out." I turn back to her. "You can help him guard the stuff until he gets his plan running." She doesn't look pleased but I don't care.

"Man, you are soft, aren't you." _Oh, I will not have this happening_. Sometimes I've seen this. A couple of the Careers gang up on one of the other smaller ones. Cato can't back me up here. It'd only make things worse. I'll have to teach this little girl myself. Even 6 and 24 who weren't raised with Career mentality, have noticed a definite upswing in the amount of tension. 6 doesn't answer me, but watches instead as I turn to face 1.

"Soft?" I ask her quietly, daring her to repeat herself. "Here, I'll show you soft!" I charge her and she snickers until my shoulder rams her in the stomach, momentarily lifting her off the ground. When she lands, hard on the packed ground, I'm on top of her, my knees pinning her shoulders, my toes digging into her wrists, one of my knives at her throat. She struggles, her legs kicking against the ground. "How 'bout I stick you here?" I growl at her, pressing the point of the knife under her chin. I hear her companion behind me and turn just as he reaches us. He's leaned down, trying to pick me up off her, but I open a deep cut on his cheek and when he falls with a yell of pain near 1's left hand, I lift my foot momentarily and give him the bottom of my boot to his head before returning to 1, my knife now across her throat. "Now who's soft, huh? Keep it up, girly." I turn the knife, press the blunt side to her skin. She squeaks, thinking I'm going to cut her, but I just stand up. "So, 6 and 7 stay here. We'll track the others."

I'm glad 1 are too stupid to realize we've just decided to use their plan after all.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own  
AN: More arena material! These chapters might come with a little more time in between them because I want to make sure they're accurate to the book. Also, you'll be pleased to know I've finished the major edit I've been working on so that's exciting :)

To my lovely reviewers: Ghanaperu (I think that knife was what inspired me to write this entire story. Clove is supposed to be the girl with the knives who never misses, right? If she'd wanted to take Katniss out, she would have. Remorse is correct. She definitely didn't like that she knifed him in the back and that comes into play later in the story too. Believe me, I love Cato and Clove but I certainly would mind writing Katniss and especially Peeta's deaths even if it meant getting Clato out alive. It'd be really sad.), hungergames98 (mini Suzanne Collins! Why thank you! I can't even handle that! Thank you :) and I'm glad to know you'll continue reading. I do love hearing from you) and my lovely Guest (Don't die! You'll never finish the story if you die! :) ) thank you all again for your wonderful feedback. It means the world to me :)  
~Billy


	16. Chapter XIV: Hunting

**Chapter 14: Hunting**

We each take a pack and fill it with whatever supplies we're going to need. Unfortunately for 2, he'll need to carry gauze as well as peroxide, both of which take up room in his pack that could otherwise be used for food or weapons. Well, it's his own fault. I slide a dozen throwing knives into my belt, thinking that I'll find a more practical way to carry them later, place another dozen in the outer pocket of my pack, fill two water bottles with lake water, purify it with iodine, load up my pack with some strips of dried meat, and strap a watch to my wrist. It might be practical for determining when to change night shifts. Before I've closed my pack, Cato approaches me and hands me a pair of night vision goggles. He says nothing, but the gesture's meaning is very clear: 'I'd rather you have these than any of the others.'The two leaders of the Alliance are bound to have silent moments that clearly show we trust each other more than the others, right? I take the goggles, put them in my pack, zip it up, stand, and put the straps over my shoulders. Now it's time to hunt down the other tributes.

2 starts on 24 about finding 23 and we let that happen. We are sort of looking for her but we make a priority of looking for other tributes first instead. We comb the woods through the afternoon and night. My guess is that we're all low on sleep but no one wants to admit that. It would be a liability.

Cato and I are silent, concentrating on scanning the trees for signs of any of the other tributes. 24 says nothing but he's clearly never tried hunting before because his feet make a good deal of noise on the ground. 1 are a louder too, less expert than Cato and me and they whisper to each other sometimes. Part of their conversation must be slightly irritated, as Cato and I are wearing night vision goggles and they have to stumble around after us. We don't allow them to carry torches because they'd alert other tributes to our presence. When this talk becomes distracting, Cato and I catch each other's eyes, decide without speaking that we'll never catch anyone surrounded by these people, and pull ahead of them.

It's not until nearly dawn that we see something worth investigating. Smoke rising over the tops of the trees. Cato and I glare at the others, telling them to say nothing as we approach. 15 is sleeping when we arrive but she freaks out completely when we rouse her. She squeaks, begs us to leave her, and tries to run but Cato gets her once in the chest. I don't envy the pain she must be feeling to make her make that sound. She falls to the ground, whimpering but then falls silent. We search her stuff but find nothing other than a box of matches, and how many of those have we got? After a few minutes of silence, I suggest,. "Maybe we should go. Maybe that's why we haven't heard the cannon."

We clear out and stand around a ways away, waiting for the cannon. When nothing happens, 2 suggests that maybe the girl isn't dead. "Of course she is!" Cato snaps back, "I stuck her myself." The argue again and then 24 steps in, offering to go back and check. 1 watch him go, then begin wondering aloud why we're really keeping him alive; he hasn't found 23 for us yet and admittedly, he doesn't really seem to know what he's doing. Cato covers for him but I don't talk. My eyes are fixed on a branch some twenty or twenty-five feet off the ground where I think I've just seen movement. Who the hell is moving up there with all of us down here? I can't keep looking without taking action and I decide we're probably better off if I act like I haven't seen anything. Maybe it's 23 up there and if I reveal that I've seen her, we'll have to kill her.

"Was she dead?" Cato asks, expecting the affirmative answer.

"No, but she is now." He cleans his knife on a leaf and we listen.

Cannon.

"Maybe he's more Career than we gave him credit for," Cato mutters to me as we move on.

"No. Killing that girl bothered him," I answer. "Look at him." 24 looks stoic enough, but there's a difference between stoic and indifferent. I'm being stoic about killing 18. I don't care about killing 10 or 14. "Also, no Career would ever let another Career bandage his arm."

We head back to the camp, where 6 and 7 have begun to build a pyramid of the remaining supplies. It's not entirely done but 7 is still working. 6 has started to dig up the mines around the metal plates we stood on at the beginning. "What are you doing?" I ask him.

"I'm going to put them around the supply pile." He nods in the direction of all our stuff. "Rewire them, bury them, then activate them. Don't worry though, there will be a ring of supplies around the pyramid telling everyone where the mines start, and I won't put them so close to camp that if they go off they'd hurt us."

"Care to enlighten me about how you're going to rewire them?" Part of me wants the skill for the arena, the other just wants to know what in the world they teach them in 3.

"Care to stop calling me 6?"

"No."

"Well, until you start calling me by my name like you do Cato, I'm not gonna tell you." _Hey! You're as bad as 24! You aren't supposed to notice that! _"And you can't force it out of me because if you hurt me, you lose your mines."_ Clever_. He does have us sort of trapped. "Though, take out that last factor and judging by the way you handled the others earlier, you could probably get me to tell you anything." I don't really know what to say. "It's a compliment, Clove." I'd really rather he not call me by name. "That was cool, the fighting and the other part."

"What other part?"

"You're as good with weapons as I am with wires. They'd be dead right now if you'd wanted it, but you let them live. That's cool." This reminds me of the way I killed 18, definitely not cool by 6's standards. I avert my eyes from his. He's kneeling, elbow deep in dirt. "Since there's no one around but the seven of us," he straightens his back, then stands up, holding a heavy-looking silver thing, presumably the mine, "and the two that were giving you trouble aren't going to be doing that anymore, make yourself useful." He pushes the mine into my chest, and for fear of having it fall on my feet and break all my toes, I take it from him. "Go take that over to the girl from 4. She'll tell you where to put it."

"...K." I'm not really paying attention to my words. I'm more preoccupied with the bomb in my hands.

"And be careful." Thanks for the warning.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own.  
AN: I think I'm gonna try to post these in like two-day intervals but don't quote me. Monday's chapter is short but really hardcore...at least I think it is.

Hungergames98, I don't know how your review got so long but I don't mind. I love reading your long reviews :)  
Ghanaperu, everyone wants to see 1 and 2 put in their places. I just got the pleasure of writing it. haha. My boyfriend actually brought up to me that he can't read fanfiction because authors are bound to mess things up and I've resolved to make this one mad accurate, barring a couple of times when I kinda call Katniss's first person POV story is being told by an unreliable narrator. Thanks so much for all your love 3  
I'll post again in a couple days.  
~Billy


	17. Chapter XV: How to Fulfill the Pact

**Chapter 14: How to Fulfill the Pact**

I hand the mine to 7 and then begin helping her by digging another hole. She's not happy about her job. What with being threatened by 24, a boy from the outermost District, and now being reduced to piling up our stuff and digging holes in the ground for a plan we're not even sure will work, she's got to be feeling like she's been shoved to the side. She can't show any of her talents if she never goes with us. Tough.

"Hey," Cato taps me on the shoulder, "Come on. We're going to gather firewood." I hesitate for just a second. Give him a mildly defiant, mildly dirty look, just to show the Capitol I don't have to do what he says just because he said it. Then I make it apparent that I believe his suggestion is smart.

"See you later, 7" I tell her, dropping the dirt in my hands unceremoniously.

Cato and I walk silently side by side and continue to be silent as we gather wood. Why should we be talking? At home we certainly would be, but here we can't appear to amiable to one another. His actions against 2 at the end of the bloodbath were about as friendly as we should be. It's maybe ten minutes before we acknowledge each other again.

He stops at a bush and examines the black berries growing on it. I drop the sticks, join him and break open one of the berries. The blood red juice stains my fingers and smells terribly sweet. The smell burns my nose and makes me feel slightly sick. I hear metal clattering around and look quickly at Cato, reaching for the handle of one of my knives for effect. "Here," he says, holding out a cylindrical tin container. "Just in case." I strip three or four more berries off the vine, though if Cato and I need them, we will need exactly two, and drop them one by one into the container. He caps it and hands it to me and I fasten it to my belt while he fills a second similar container. This exchange must look very strange in the Capitol indeed, especially considering that Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith are most definitely explaining to the audience that these are nightlock berries.

I can almost hear the questions circulating in the Capitol right now: "Why would two Careers be collecting nightlock together?" Of course, we know what they're for but the audience must be thinking we aim to poison someone else. "But why then did Cato show them to Clove? Someone smarter would have seen the bush and simply gone about picking up sticks, making a mental note to return for a closer examination". This must be very puzzling for the Capitol, for all of Panem really. They know he must be smart. "What is Cato doing?" "Did Cato know they were here?" Come to think of it, I'd like the answer to that but I can't very well blurt it out to him. I hazard a guess at 'yes'. Why else would he have brought along two small containers? And the last question buzzing around in all their brains will be "How did they know what they are?" for it's clear we're aware they could be useful, but aren't to be eaten. Nightlock isn't native to 2 and the trainers didn't show them to us at the station in training, but that doesn't mean we didn't see them in other Games: the second Quarter Quell, for instance.

At home, we use video of all 73 other Games to prepare mentally for our own. Our district keeps all the original footage on disks in a room in the training center for us to watch. It's important to see what other kinds of arenas, weather, weapons, and supplies the Gamemakers provide. And for someone small like me, it was important to watch the fights, to memorize the steps of the tributes. I need my technique and if I see how others forgot theirs, I'll always be careful not to make those same mistakes.

Cato and I return to camp, each with an enormous armful of firewood. As we set the sticks down an I begin to set up the teepee, 2 starts in on us, wondering what the hell we're building a fire for when it's a hundred degrees. I didn't even think how strange that would look, but Cato's got it sorted. "Are you gonna want to find firewood in the middle of the night when the temperature's down seventy degrees?" 2 says nothing but glares at the pair of us. I drop the stick I'm holding and my right hand goes to one of the knives on my belt as a precaution, but I don't throw or even draw. He's annoyed with Cato's sarcastic question but not so annoyed that he's going to raise a weapon to either of us. That's another part of the strategy someone of my stature was always aware of. When do people look angry as opposed to dangerous? Someone Cato's size doesn't care how dangerous a person looks because he can most likely crush their windpipe with one hand. I, on the other hand, am nearly a foot shorter than Cato and petit. I learned very young how to expect and predict an attack. "I wouldn't either so we did it now." Cato continues. "Any more stupid questions?" I know 2 will walk away before he does, so I release my hold on my knife and go back to sorting sticks.

I build the teepee near the mouth of the Cornucopia, thinking that when we're sleeping at night, it'll be practical to have warmth and shelter close to each other. None of us is comfortable sleeping in the tent so it lies in the pyramid where 7 put it. We'd be too close to one another in there. Not to mention it would be too easy for some other tribute to come along and light the whole thing on fire, killing us all in a minute. Maybe when there are fewer of us left, the remaining Careers, namely Cato and me, will sleep there.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own  
AN: So earlier this morning this chapter was I think less than 700 words but I've lengthened it for you. This of course means that I've written a lot of this within the last hour so please excuse any stupid typing errors. I do proofread but I'm not perfect.  
Also, I'd just like to do an internet happy dance for the fact that this now has over 3,000 hits! *insert internet happy dance* That blows my mind and I love all of you and do hope you continue reading.  
To my lovely reviewers

Ghanaperu: 6's character plays in later...well all the time really. He's a much bigger deal in this story than he ever was in THG. Also, I'm glad you laugh sometimes during this too. I've read parts of this to a couple people and sometimes when I read things out loud I realize how sarcastic or ironic or just ridiculous and therefore funny it is and I didn't even mean to write it that way. Day of Diana says Clove is spicy and she always laughs when she reads things.  
hungergames98: (haha speaking of typos, you about because hungergames87 there for a minute because I can't numbers :) ) Believe me, there is no easy way for the Games to end. I kind of want to root for everybody but unfortunately I can't. I totally want to drop hints here but I also don't want to because I don't want you guys to expect stuff. Ya know? Kinda like reading the books, you don't know what's going to happen and then it does and sometimes it just blows your mind. Speaking of paying attention to small details, however, I realized I totally forgot how the stage was set up for the interviews. That was a bit of a nasty shock but...we just won't talk about it... haha. As I said, I'm not perfect but I do try to make it as believable as possible.  
stranger w book: Did you read this whole thing in a night? If so, holy cow! Also, I'm glad you like it.

I love you guys so very very much and I'll post again very soon :) Bis dann!


	18. Chapter XVI: A Thing for 6

AN: This actually pertains to the previous chapter but I forgot to write it there. So, the reason it was originally so short was because it was just Cato and Clove getting the nightlock. I added more so I wouldn't be such a bum for posting a supershort chapter on here but I was worried I'd water down the nightlock scene so I didn't want to extend it too much. yep. Anyway, happy reading :)

**Chapter 16: A Thing for 6**

We split up shifts between the seven of us. Two of us, each from different Districts, stay up for two hours. As there are only seven of us one person gets the short end of the stick and has to stay up for two shifts. 6 volunteers. "If that's alright with you guys. I mean, you're the ones going off to track the others. That takes more energy. I'll stay up." 24 and I get paired with him. Cato's with 1, and 7's with 2. My shift is early in the morning, shortly after we've killed 15. We'll sleep until noon. The Capitol won't even be awake to watch us do anything before then and with six hours of sleep powering our brains, we'll be able to hunt all afternoon and into the night.

I don't talk to 6. I don't want to get to know him better. The fact that him calling me by my name had such an effect on me earlier is unsettling. He's a number for a reason and the reason is that it's easier to think of people you may have to kill as objects, numbers, not people, but when they use your name, it severely undermines your effort to push them away. Not to mention the fact that when he told me it was 'cool' that I let 1 live, I felt guilty again about 18. None of these tributes (with the exception of Cato) should be able to make me feel anything. No sympathy, no guilt. I must remain indifferent to them and for that reason, I don't talk to 6 anymore.

Generally, we sit on opposite sides of the camp but sometimes I get up to walk around. I don't want someone sneaking up on us or damaging our supplies. The mines aren't quite ready to be activated yet so it's still possible for us to be raided. This plan of his is clever, but it could also have disastrous consequences if one of the other tributes gets too close. We'll all lose everything. I hold tight to two of my knives, ready to throw with one, ready to slice with the other. When my watch beeps, I approach 6. When I tap him on the shoulder with the blade of the knife in my right hand, he jumps about a mile.

I act as though I haven't noticed. "You wake 1," I tell him. "She'd freak if I did."

"You scared me," he says.

"Wake her. I'll get Cato." I walk cross our camp and rouse Cato. "Your turn," I tell him.

He sits up, obviously making an effort to wake up quickly. "I'm up," he says, reaching for the sword near him. "Are you dead tired or can we talk?" I look around for 1 and 6. They're making a good deal of noise. Apparently even him waking her was startling.

"They won't like it," I tell him.

"I don't care. We showed them earlier it's our way or they go home in boxes a whole lot sooner than they want to. If you're awake enough, let's go." 1's up now, whispering angrily in 6's face. I want to go over there and tell her to calm down and lay off, but I just nod at Cato.

"Ok. Let's go." He stands and we grab two water bottles and walk out of the mouth of the Cornucopia and toward the lake.

"You did well earlier," he tells me. "You showed them and your sponsors." I nod. "So what's wrong?"

I kneel and fill my bottle before answering. "I don't like talking to 6."

"Why not?" He's kneeling beside me.

"6 isn't right for this. He calls me Clove. I don't like it. And he said it was good of me to let them live." I wonder if it's smart to be having this conversation here, right beside the lake which is totally open for any camera. But since when do I not tell Cato everything that's in my head? Even if it's not smart, it's only six in the morning. Who's going to be awake to hear it? And even if someone is awake, maybe this conversation will show them that Cato and I are, like Alaia said, 'people doing whatever it takes to survive.' Maybe it's alright if they see a bit of humanity from me.

"Don't listen to him. Don't let him get to you. This Alliance needs you and me to be strong enough to do this. Don't let him make you feel guilty. If he does, get rid of him once he's done his job now with the mines. We don't need him after that." I look at him, slightly stunned. Cato from home would not have said something like that. Some sick part of me knows he's right though. Once he's fixed the mines to work, 6 will have been as useful as he said he could be. All he is now is our extra shift taker and they guy we tell to watch our stuff while we go catch everybody else. He'll be more threat than ally after he activates the mines because he knows this Alliance can't last forever and he's talked about making makeshift explosives. What if he works on those today when we're not here? Or activates the mines without telling us? It would be smarter to kill him sooner. Cato gives me a cocky grin, "What? You got a thing for him?"

"No," I answer, my voice calm and even. "No one would be stupid enough to have 'a thing' for anyone else in here. Even 24 knows it's useless or he wouldn't be helping us track 23." I wouldn't mind if the Capitol heard that. Break their little hearts for them.

"Good." Cato stands up then and makes his way back to our camp.

I return to the Cornucopia to lay down in the mouth where Cato was. It's the closest thing I have to a proper shield against the sun. 1 complains to Cato about taking off with me, even if it was only for a few minutes, but he just brushes her off and walks once around the camp. We make eye contact as he passes me, but he doesn't stop. Smart.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own  
AN: More Clove being sympathetic and Cato being protective. Haha, Glimmer.

To my fabulous reviewers:

Ghanaperu: The nightlock scene is why I said that chapter was hardcore. I mean, they're planning their means of suicide. It's kind of a big deal. And as far as Clove being perceptive, it kind of comes with her strategic/technique-oriented skill set.

TwilightCharmedFaie: That's kind of the main scene of that chapter so I'm glad you liked it :)

InsanityInItsFinest: Thanks for the review, buddy. I do hope you continue to read this :) Also, (because I'm fake creepy and I fake creeped your page on here) you should totally post your stuff if you want to :) I'm sure it's wonderful.

Ramonks33: BWAAAAH! to you too, dear. haha. I also hope you continue to read. That would make me happy.

Thanks to all of you. How very wonderful it is to have such lovely feedback from such awesome people! 3 :)


	19. Chapter XVII: Somethin' to Run To

****Quick AN: So, I've got a few friends here from Germany and I don't think I'll be able to post again until probably Monday. To compensate, here's what I think is the longest chapter yet.

**Chapter 17: Somethin' to Run To**

We track 23 for the next two days. 24 maintains that he recognizes her trail but even 1 have perceived that he's no great hunter. Cato and I are on round the clock watch of him, making sure nobody tries anything. 7 decides she wants to come with us instead of sitting around with 6. I don't wonder why. I wouldn't want to sit around with 6, though maybe he saves the guilt tripping for just me.

When the massive fire starts on the fourth day in the arena there's a good deal of panic, at least from the other four, the ones who weren't trained in 2. Cato and I look around, assessing the situation. We seem to be at the end of the flames, but that doesn't mean we're completely out of danger, as we quickly find out when a fireball very nearly decapitates 7. She yells and dodges out of the way. I guess that's our cue to move it or lose it.

I'm always the path finder. "Go," Cato tells me, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around, away from the fire. "Go!" My eyes sweep the trees, looking for a safe way out. Cato doesn't need a verbal warning or command to follow me, so I don't give one. I just dig my feet into the forest floor and take off at a dead sprint.

It's a miserable run. My eyes water, my lungs burn, my brain is foggy with panic and a lack of clean air. Ordinarily, Cato and I could take off running and lose the other four if we wanted, but we're slowed now, inhibited by both the close quarters of the trees and our uncooperative muscles. The others keep up somehow. They're clearly not as adept as we are to running, but under pressure, you'd be surprised what even the weakest tribute is capable of.

We know as we run that we were right to do so. The fire pursues us, pushing us I don't know where but the last thing I want to do is ask it. Instead, I keep my eyes ahead, looking for animal guides to follow and keep my ears pricked for any ominous sounds, the telltale crack of the trunk of a tree, the hiss of one of those nasty fireballs. My nose is alert and my lungs are desperate for clean air and I cough violently but don't stop. _Move it. I don't care how much it hurts. Move!_

As it turns out, my eyes are most useful. Yes, I hear the hiss and the explosion of the fireball, but the visual of it blowing the trunk of tree not fifteen feet in front of me in two is the most important part. I stop and fling my arm out to my side, catching Cato hard in the chest with such force that what little air was left in him leaves in lungs. He gasps for breath and sputters something like, "What?" but stops mid-word when he sees the tree fall, blocking our intended path. I swallow hard and look around, but it's so smokey I can hardly see anything.

I'm concentrating so hard that I don't hear the next hiss. The only thing that saves me from taking a fireball to the back of the head, is Cato's hand on me, pushing me roughly to the ground. The fireball explodes barely ten feet in front of us, sending flames and debris everywhere. Instinctively, I bury my face in my arms, protecting my eyes. I don't know where the rest of the group is, but I don't seem to care. Neither does Cato. In fact, it seems he doesn't care that we're probably live on national television because I feel his arms, one around my neck, the other gripping the wrist that's closest to the last explosion. Protecting me. He's got his face pressed down on my shoulder, but I've rarely, if ever, seen a Career, especially one from 2, protect another individual in the arena.

"There!" A hoarse cry reaches our ears. 2's voice. "She's there!" He's pushing himself back to his feet and pointing. Sure enough, there's a figure, very distinctly human, darting away from us.

We're all up and on our feet in a matter of seconds. We chase her for several minutes, far enough behind her that, over the roar of the flames and the cracking of the trees, she doesn't hear us. Of course that disadvantage works both ways and we lose her for several minutes. When the sound of water reaches our ears, we decide it's as good a place as any to look for her. We're thirsty and I for one am starting to feel a little nauseous. The fire has died down now but the air is still thick with smoke.

It's at the stream that we find her resting with her legs in the water. I can see red where the leg of her pants was burned. She's injured. Well, she'd better be able to run. I make no effort to be quiet as we approach her, hoping to rouse her so she'll flee before we get there and have to cut her throat in her sleep.

She does, and thankfully she was smart and had all her gear ready to go at a moment's notice. This is it 24, you'd better not let her die. We cross the stream and follow her but stop when she begins to climb a tree. I could get her, but in all honesty, I'd rather wait down here. 1 start yelling at her, taunting and trying to scare her, and I follow suit. 24 is silent, watching her, which I ascertain from a quick glance at him. She's got guts, there's no denying that. She's teasing us back which genuinely annoys me because first, we all look stupid when she does that, and second, if she's making us look stupid, we have no choice, as Careers, but to go after her with everything we've got. 1 offers Cato her bow and arrows, but he decides against it. "No," he snarls, making for the base of the tree. "I'll do better with my sword."

I'm more agile than he is, lighter too, and therefore a better climber, but telling him no at this point will only make things worse. He's not bad, actually, and he's twenty feet off the ground and still moving before his size becomes a burden. There's a telltale creaking, cracking sound, he stops, listens, looks down then scrabbles frantically trying to catch himself as his branch gives way. He lands on his back, which ordinarily would be murderous if the leaves weren't so thick here. We're past the line of fire but the smoke doesn't care. Cato lays there, catching his breath for a few seconds, but I think only I notice that. He's back on his feet, cursing as 1, now looking annoyed at Cato, notches an arrow on the bow and aims high at 23. She releases the string and the arrow flies, landing in the trunk of the tree, nowhere close to 23, who taunts us back now. Cato's doesn't seem eager to repeat his venture into the tree. Instead he's fuming beside me, humiliated and furious, not a pretty combination for her. Even with our plan, if he gets ahold of her...I just really hope he doesn't.

Then 24 speaks up, his first words in minutes. He suggests that we wait for 23 to come down. We look at him, then I agree, thinking that maybe it'll be good to let her sleep up there. We seem to only be embarrassing ourselves chasing her. We sit down on the ground and pass time sitting around a fire, which 2 strikes up with some matches. I throw some of my smaller knives at the cracks of the bark of 23's tree, scoot over, retrieve them, repeat.

We set up a watch, privately leaving 24 out of it. None of us really trusts him. I'm first, then Cato, 2, and 1. The hours are split up differently for us than they are for the group with 24 included. We each have a two hour shift when we don't include him but when we do, it's a little less. If we're to be on watch with him, we're to be subtle so he doesn't know we're awake.

I sit next to Cato, my back against a tree, for my watch. I don't distract myself, but hold a knife in my stronger throwing hand for the duration of my shift. When my watch from the Cornucopia beeps, I shut it off quickly. I'd feel lazy if I woke Cato the second after my shift ended, so I give him a few more minutes, then rouse him. He passes his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up. When he's sitting, I hand him my knife, "Hold this and look menacing," I tell him with a slight smile. He picks up the sword he stole and holds it up for me to see.

"I'm pretty intimidating already, I think."

"It's easier to throw a knife than a sword, especially from this angle." I shake the handle of the knife at him, insisting that he take it, "Here." He takes it and I lay down. Typical of me, both at home and out here, I can't find a comfortable way to sleep. I'm awake for fifteen minutes just lying on the ground, moving around occasionally. "Tell me something," I say to Cato.

"What?" Like, 'what do you want me to tell you?'. Like he thinks there's more to my sentence.

"Anything. Just talk. Talk quietly." He does. He starts recounting stories from home. Not anything that would give something important away to a tribute pretending to sleep, nothing that'd incriminate either of us, but nice stories. I pay less attention to the leafy bed and focus more on remembering the stories he's telling me in detail. It still takes more than half an hour, but I drift off.

It's the shriek that wakes me with a jolt in the morning, 1 is writhing on the ground, covered in what look like wasps. I feel stings too and panic. I hit Cato, one sharp whack to the shoulder, but he's already awake. We're up and running before we even register that 1 isn't going to make it and 7 is gone, off screaming somewhere. I feel the spots where the stingers get me immediately begin to swell, big, to the size of oranges. "Tracker jackers!" I shout to Cato. He knows what those are; we learned about them at training.

"To the lake!" I know it's really a waste of breath to scream and try to run at the same time, but the stings hurt and now that I know what's coming, the horrible hallucinations, I'm really terrified and can't help it. The venom is already making me dizzy. Cato's yelling too as he beats the things away from him. I'm not sure but I'd guess 2 is following or ahead of us.

I jump in the lake and begin pulling stingers out, trying not to count. I stay under for as long as I can, hoping to lose the tracker jackers. When I resurface, Cato's climbing out of the water. I swam away from the other shore in my effort to stay under, (for some reason it was easier to move and hold my breath) so I swim for the opposite shore and sprawl out on the ground, shaking with pain, sick with trepidation. Already trees are changing colors above me, swirling around and around. The hallucinations have begun. _No. You must fight this. Where's Cato? _I say his name but receive no reply. Maybe I was too quiet. These hallucinations don't seem to be merely visual.

That's 24. His words are indistinguishable but that's his voice, then Cato's roar. I raise my head off the grass and push myself up but I'm already feeling weak. There's no way I can stand up. _Take cover._ _Move yourself. _I pull myself further away from the water. I don't know how long it takes, but it can't be more than a couple of minutes, before I hear Cato's voice again, "Give me somethin' to run to, Clove!" I look up and search for him. He's standing on what I know is the bank where we jumped in, but it's changed so drastically in the last few minutes that it's nearly unrecognizable. It's darker, much darker, black and intimidating. It looks like I'd imagine and island to look in the middle of a hurricane.

"Here," I try again but my voice just won't cooperate. _Damn your incompetence, Clove! Tell him where you are! _His eyes are good, maybe good enough to see across the lake. I raise one arm off the grass, cough once to clear my throat and at last, it works. "Here!"

One of those things must have worked because there's a splash and a minute or three later I feel water dripping on me. Cato turns me from my stomach to my back, puts an arm around me and hoists me to my feet. Maybe he wasn't stung as many times as I was or maybe it's just his body mass that's giving him the strength for this. I'm on the tips of my toes and trying to help him support my weight but I think I'm just hindering us. "Stop," he commands. He keeps one hand high on my back, supporting me, then leans down and puts his other arm under my knees. My right arm is lying on my stomach and I try to make my fingers bend to grip the front of his jacket or his shirt or something, something to tell him I'm trying to help, but I've been stung on my fingers and moving them is like trying to bend sausage. It doesn't seem to make a difference. Cato runs as best he can, which right now is a swerving trot. I let my head rest against him.

It's darker where we are now. I can tell through my eyelids. He brought us somewhere safer, out of the sunlight, away from the reflection of the water. Finally though, the venom must be affecting him, or maybe he's just stopped fighting so hard, or maybe he tripped. I feel myself on the forest floor, Cato's head on my stomach. He must have had the forethought to push me away from him as he fell so he wouldn't completely land on top of me.

He gives himself about a minute to rest, then pushes himself to his elbows and knees again. I don't know where he's getting the strength for this. He crawls about a foot, reaches out and pulls my hood over my head. His fingers fumble with the zipper but he fastens it and slides it up to my chin. Protecting me from exposure. It's then that I notice blood on his shirt. Over his heart. I think I mumble his name and I see my hand reach out to touch him without feeling the actual movement. When I pull it away, my fingers are soaked in blood. I blink. What's happened? When I open my eyes again, there's no blood on him and the hand I thought I'd moved rests at my side.

Maybe he saw it in my face, the flash of panic, because he tells me, "I'm ok. I'm stung too...not hurt."

I hear myself say, "Your jacket," meaning that he should zip it up and pull on the hood, but he doesn't understand. Apparently the thought was on his mind though because he does it anyway. It takes him about a minute.

By the time he has, more vivid hallucinations are beginning. I see us down in the training center below the mountain in 2. Cato, Caleb, me and the rest of our friends are there. We're practicing, fooling around some, provoking each other, play fighting when suddenly the alarm sounds. It's supposed to keep going until the emergency is over, or until everyone has evacuated. A second later all lights go out. Above us, we can hear panic. My palms sweat, I'm scared, tense, and anxious, knowing the worst has to be coming, but silent. My head hurts just thinking of what Brutus or any of the trainers would do if this crowd screamed and ran about.

"Clove?" Caleb's beside me. We were beside each other when the lights went out. He's holding a spear, or he was when I last saw him. I doubt weapons will do us any good for this kind of emergency though. There are more than footsteps above us now. The floor is shaking. I step back and feel Caleb's arm against my back.

"I'm here," I answer in a whisper. "Where was your brother?"

"He was working with Brutus at swords." Swords. Cato was always best there, but still Brutus and the others took him aside to fine tune his technique, to make sure he was the absolute best, like me with knives. Swords is the first station on the left as one enters the door to the training center.

I take hold of Caleb's wrist and begin to walk toward the door. My eyes aren't entirely adjusted, so I walk into a few people but push past them. I know where I'm going. When the sound reaches my ears, I know what it means and I run, dropping Caleb's hand, shouting orders. "Clear the entrance! Clear! Get back! Get out of the way!" Caleb's a pilot, or training to be one, and he's told me how dangerous the fumes from the hovercrafts can be, especially when ignited. He knows what the sound means too and I can hear him repeating my orders. They're not stupid though. They know what the loud bangs mean. Not many of the fumes reach down here, but there are enough. There are also gas tanks and power sources...

For a split second, everything is illuminated, the entrance, the people moving quickly to the other side of the room, the abandoned weapons now lying on the tile floor. I see Cato and scream at him but it's too late. The illumination means that the explosions have reached this room. The floor cracks, chunks of tile fly everywhere and the shock waves from the explosion take his legs out from under him. He lands hard on the ground and doesn't have time to get up again before the billowing fire reaches him.

Falling precedes the flames for me too. I'm on the ground, then engulfed and everything goes black.

I'm screaming I think, lying down, curled up on my side shaking and sweating and feeling sick. "...here, Clove. I'm here. It's ok. I'm not hurt. You're not hurt. We're fine. Remember the tracker jackers?" Tracker jackers. Those awful wasp-like mutts from the Capitol. He keeps talking and I cling to his hand. This is what's real. He's right. We are fine, and unless another tribute who hasn't been stung finds us before the venom wares off, we'll still be fine when this is over.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Holy cow this is a long chapter! Also, parts of this were written maybe an hour ago so don't judge too harshly if the grammar's off.

Also, quick comment about the title. I like it. I don't know where I got the idea for him to say that, but I think it's cool because he's sort of telling her she's the only thing he's going to run to. Like he's not going to go anywhere else but straight to her. Is that understandable or am I crazy?

Oh and another also, I feel clever for tying this together a little in this chapter. You've read "I'm always the path finder" before.

To my beloved reviewers:

Ghanaperu: Yes, certainly foreshadowing 6's death a little but also cleverly planting a mysterious seed...Ooo...You'll see... (I know this response was short, but it's meaningful and full of hints)

hungergames98: I missed you, brah, and I'm glad you're back :) I kind of feel why Collins left the sympathetic side of them out, (you don't want to have like 8 good guys in the story and have to kill six of them) but at the same time, I wish she hadn't because so many people hate on Cato and Clove and I'm like "No, I love them! You have to love them!" haha.

TwilightCharmedFaie: Why thank you, madam :) It's actually kind of a problem because I find myself referring to tributes by the numbers they have in the story. I'm like "Yeah, so when Peeta (alright, I call him by name because I like him) went back to finish 15," and people are like "Who's 15?" and I'm like "...the girl from District 8. The fire starter...*awkward*" haha

Anyway, sorry for the endless AN. I'll post again soon :)

~Billy


	20. Chapter XVIII: Friendly Ally

**Chapter 18: Friendly Ally**

That first one probably wasn't the worst hallucination I experienced, but it's the one I remember most vividly when I finally come out of it. They weren't all involving our friends from school and training either. Some were about my family, some were just me. When the venom has run its course, I'm lying, still curled up, my hand locked with Cato's, my head against his chest just like the night before the reaping. I knew we were here before I came to because sometimes between hallucinations I could feel him. My eyes have been closed so I haven't seen him, but I knew we were both still here.

I keep my hand tightly locked with Cato's but begin to try moving my other limbs. I've been curled up for I don't know how long so my joints are more stiff than they've ever been. I haven't had water since the night before 23 dropped the nest and my head and muscles are feeling the adverse effects. When I check the watch, it tells me it's a little after two in the afternoon. No wonder it's so hot. How close are we to the water? "Cato?" It hurts to talk. "It's Clove. We're in the arena, but I think we're safe for now. Remember the tracker jackers?" I'm not sure if talking will help bring him out but I have to try something. I can't carry him. I don't even know where I'd go if I could. All I can do is continue to talk to him. I tell him what's going on around us, whistle something simple for the birds to imitate when my throat hurts too badly to continue.

He looks like he's still hallucinating. He's sweating and shaking and holding tightly to my left hand with both of his. I shake his shoulder gently, fairly certain this is the opposite of proper procedure but I just want this to stop. It's cruel. I put my hand on the side of his head, thinking maybe human contact will help. Dirt and sweat have matted locks of his hair together. He wakes up like I did, just lies there on the ground, getting his bearings while I talk to him. I tell him more than once who I am and that we're safe. Eventually he sits up and makes eye contact with me. When he puts my voice together with my name and face he looks relieved and hugs me. _Uh, no. Not very Career. Not Hunger Games mentality_. Though maybe screaming for him at the start of my hallucinations wasn't either. "Uh," I say, trying to sound nonchalant. He remembers where we are and pulls away.

"Sorry," he says, "It's weird that we can't still be friends in here." This is painfully obvious. Maybe his judgement's off.

"You carried me out here away from those things. Made sure I wouldn't die of sun poisoning. We've apparently been right next to each other since then trying to fight off the venom. Maybe we're better off being friendly allies at the very least. Try to get the pair of us as far as we can. Starting with water. How far are we from the lake? Do you remember?"

He doesn't exactly know, but we retrace the trail he trampled as he swerved through the trees and find the water. Our packs and portable supplies dried while we were out so we fill our water bottles with fresh water, add iodine, wait half an hour and drink slowly, trying not to make ourselves sick. We talk about the fight with 24, trying to be nonchalant, though both silently hope he's still alive.

"I was wondering when you two would come around," calls 2 from behind us. We jump up, weapons drawn, then lower them when we realize who he is. He's smirking at us. "Glad to see you too."

"How long have you been up?" I ask.

"Maybe an hour," he says, "I found berries. Want some?"

"How long were we out?" Cato asks. I take a few of the berries from 2's outstretched hand and inspect them. Just because we're allies doesn't mean he wouldn't like us both dead soon. We're eventually going to be threats to him.

"No idea. Where have you two been? How long have you been up?"

"We were over under some trees," as Cato says this, I realize how very hot I am. I unzip my jacket. "We've been up for what...half an hour?" He looks at me for confirmation. I nod and break open one of the berries, just to be absolutely sure.

"Were you two together?" He must know we were in the same vicinity at the very least, otherwise he's incredibly dense. Maybe he means together like together, taking care of each other. He looks suspicious of us, like we should have all been separated because he was.

"Here," I hand Cato a berry. A change of subject is in order. "They're fine. We should get back to the supplies." I start to head back in the direction of the Cornucopia.

"Wait, what-?" asks 2, taking hold of my arm as I pass.

"Don't worry about it," I answer, yanking my hand away from him. As I do, I catch a glimpse of Cato, one hand on his sword. He's glaring at 2, who looks like he knows he could be in trouble in a second here. He holds up his hands.

"Fine," he sounds defiant but we know he means 'fine, I won't do it again.' Cato grunts, or something like that, and walks past him to continue back to camp next to me.

"Where have you guys been?" asks 6 when we walk out of the woods. "You've been gone for two days."

We ignore him and sit down in the mouth of the Cornucopia. "Well there's one of his answers," Cato tells me, watching 2 take a seat on one of the cases. 6 continues to talk to him, but he ignores him and 6 eventually decides it'd be smarter not to press the issue. I guess Cato and I are scary enough that simply not answering him when he first asked was sufficient. Good to know.

6 disappears into the woods, carrying a bowl and returns half an hour later with it full of green leaves. He approaches me. "Here. For the sting on your hand. Well, for any of your stings." I take one of them and inspect it. So does Cato. Apparently 2 wasn't invited. Now I'm glad I've made friends with this annoying kid with a knack for both plants and explosives.

I don't spend as much time inspecting the leaf, figuring that he's not nearly bold enough to try to kill us this way. "Take another and chew on it. It'll make a kind of paste. Put that on the stings." 6 instructs us, looking at me.

"You first," Cato invites/orders him. The kid makes an expression like 'Fine. I don't care,' which I find amusing, and takes another leaf. He chews on it, then spits it into his hand to show us. Then he places it on his own sting. Leave it to 2 to draw the tracker jackers all the way back to camp. Cato continues to look suspicious, but I'm sick of having my throwing hand look and feel like sausage so I take the risk and copy 6.

"It looks fine," I tell Cato once I'm holding the chewed up leaf to the back of my right hand. "Thanks, 6," I tell him. "Leave the bowl here, will you? I got stung a bunch." He nods, sets the bowl down at my feet and returns to where he was sitting before we got here.

"I'd have gone first," Cato tells me. That's no way to talk if he wants sponsors. They won't help him if they don't think he's in this to come out.

"Playing the hero?" I ask him, giving him a look like, 'just play along.' I put another leaf in my mouth. They're leaves so they don't hinder my speech. "Saving the damsel in distress from the tracker jackers, the mean boy from One, and the evil leaves?" I throw one at him and put the second chewed up one on another of my stings. The leaves are sticky once I've chewed them so I continue as we talk. He looks like he's about to react the opposite way he should so I decide to be a little more direct, "That's no way to talk if you want sponsors." Or a lot more direct.

I watch the lightbulb go on in his head. "We're good allies," he says, "You made sure I was up to run from the tracker jackers and sat there waiting for me to wake up. You've had my back in here just as often as I've had yours. I know I'll win if we're in the top two so, yeah, if that counts as saving the damsel in distress, then yes, I am." I've finished with the leaves now. I tell him something vulgar, roll my eyes at his fake threat and stand up. He knows I'm just playing with him so I'm not worried about making him angry. I climb up on the Cornucopia, and lay down on my jacket. The metal is hot so I keep my triceps off it. Cato comes up a few minutes later.

"What are you doing?" he asks. I squint up at him and he moves so my face is in shadow.  
"Trying to get a tan." _Ha! _

He snorts, then it turns into a laugh, "What? You're gonna get a sunburn." He takes off his jacket and drops it over my face. I hear him walk away from me.

"What are you doing then?" I ask, pulling the jacket off and looking over at him. He's lounging like I just was.

"Getting a tan." Touche, my friend, touche.

"Shut up." I throw the jacket back at him and pull mine back on. We stay there for a little while longer, maybe half an hour. The heat begins to make me feel sleepy.

"Hey," Cato is tapping on the Cornucopia, on the metal near my head. "If you sleep up here, you'll fry. Come on."

"Saving the damsel in distress again," I tease as I sit up. I realize I have leaves and all sorts of dead plant bits in my hair, which is falling out of the hair tie. I pull it loose and begin combing it through with my fingers.

"Come on, princess. Get off this thing. Do that in the shade." I throw one of the dead leaves at him but it gets caught in the breeze and blown back toward me. He smirks and slides down the side of the Cornucopia. I follow him.

We decide that the rest of today should be a rest day. None of us says it out loud, but we're all still sore, reeling from the venom, tired, and aren't really in the mood to hunt down other tributes. There must be something intense going on elsewhere in the arena because otherwise they'd be sending something over here to mess with us. When the anthem plays in the evening, no faces appear in the sky. "Hey, 6," Cato calls. By now, 6 just knows that's his name. He knows what it means, but seems to have accepted that this is the way it is. "Were there faces in the sky when we were gone?"

"Both girls from 1 and 4," he replies. So it's 2, 3, 4, 9, 12, 21, 22, 23, 24. Not quite the top eight.

Cato and I sit in the mouth of the Cornucopia, our hoods up, my hands in my sleeves as the arena gets colder. I'm shivering but try to cover it up for a little while. I haven't noticed for the past few days because I've been unconscious but the Gamemakers are really dropping the temperature now. Cato's much bigger than I am, so he's cold, and probably colder than he should be because his jacket is unzipped, his hands in his pockets.

I scoot closer to him. He turns and I wrap my arms around him, under his jacket. "Hey friendly ally," he says, pulling the jacket up over my shoulders so we're one big bundle of less than freezing.

When I wake up, it's already warming up and my neck is killing me from sleeping sitting up on Cato's chest. As soon as I realize this, I sit up and stretch. Cato stirs then because in sitting up, I dislodged both his arms, which had been around me near my hip, his hands still in the pockets, holding the jacket around me.

"You ok?" he asks. I immediately stop stretching, making it look like I don't want him to know about any weaknesses.

"Fine," I answer. It's how we were trained to answer. No matter what is actually going on, we're fine. "Hungry." He says he is too so we stand up and head over to the pile of supplies. He jumps over the mines, then tosses breakfast food back to me. Cereal, which we'll have to eat dry, a couple of apples, and some bread. We sit down on either side of 6, hand him an apple and a bowl and begin eating. 2 wakes up a while later and is annoyed that we started eating without him. Cato's eaten his apple which only makes him madder. I roll my eyes at the other two as 2 jumps to the pile, and grabs an apple and bowl for himself. He returns to us and sits beside me. Cato doesn't look happy about that but he acts normal. He knows if this punk tried anything I'd take him. He's just looking out for me. We've never babied each other and he's not now.

"What do you say we go look for Lover Boy?" 2 breaches the subject of our injured but not quite dead opponent.

"We don't need to look for him. I know where I cut him. He's dead."

"Right, which explains why his face was in the sky." _Oh good, sarcasm. That always goes over well with this crowd. _

"It is possible you missed, Cato. Weren't you stung by then?" 6 suggests.

"Maybe Lover Boy and Fire Girl are together," 2 muses out loud. "We should at the very least try to find them."

"One problem. You told me yesterday Fire Girl took the arrows. My bet would be that if she risked running into you again to go back to get them, she's a competent archer at the very least," says 6.

"What do you care? You're not going after her? And who cares if she's armed? Have you seen her? She's tiny. We could take her." Right 2, you can take any tiny tribute. How's that gash in your face?

"How do you think she got that score? I wouldn't want to be near her and those arrows if I were you guys." How did he figure that out? I don't remember him people watching in the Training Center. He was too busy pestering me. How had he noticed she'd avoided archery? "To tell you the truth, if I were you guys, I'd probably have stopped chasing her by now. She seems to have outsmarted you––" What the hell is he doing?

"Watch it, 6!" 2 barks at him, standing up. He looks mad enough to fight him right now. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm on my feet too.

"I was just––" 6 begins but I speak over him.

"Stop it. Both of you. Now." It's an order and they both look at me. 12 is looking at me like 'why do you keep doing me favors?'. 2 is livid. "We'll go look for 24. Come on." Cato's up now too, sword in one hand, spear in the other.

"You two go ahead. Let us two have a talk." 2's eyes haven't left 6's face.

"No," Cato answers, glaring at him. "You think we want you two forming some second alliance against us? No you come with us. And you stay here. Guard the stuff."

"You got it," 6 answers.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: A much more chill chapter this time. The last like four have been kind of non-stop and I don't remember where I got the "I'm getting a tan" conversation but everyone I read this chapter to thought it was hilarious so there you are.

Also, I know in the book it says they didn't treat their stings but only Marvel didn't in this story which could've been all Katniss/Rue observed. Again, first person=unreliable narrator.

To my lovely reviewers:

Ghanaperu: Thanks for bringing up that the hallucination didn't quite compute without an explanation. Here it is:

Quick explanation of my interpretation of how the venom works: Some of it must be made up, like Katniss seeing the humming orange bubbles and the butterfly that bursts into stars. But what Katniss says is that the venom is designed to target the part of your brain that controls fear. She saw bad stuff happening to Prim and her mother that weren't memories, but she also saw things happen to her father (like him being blown up in the mines) which isn't a memory per say but is influenced by a memory. Clove saw the same kind of scary/weird entirely made up images as the venom attacked her brain.  
Once it began specifically targeting her fears, she saw things closer to home. Cato hurt. The Training Center in 2 exploding. The latter isn't a memory. The way I've imagined it is that the Training Center was under the mountain that was attacked in Mockingjay. All the hovercrafts and other Capitol vehicles were there. Caleb's training to be a pilot so he'd know all about the fumes and how dangerous they are. The others knew as well, which was why they were getting away from the entrance. Ordinarily the fumes would be drawn out of the mountain by vents but if those were covered up they'd have a big problem.  
The fire that led to the explosions may have been caused by the same electrical problem that cut off the power. Clove may have heard that alarm before in a drill or something and had to evacuate but nothing that catastrophic happens under the mountain until Mockingjay. With the knowledge like something like that _could_ happen, there must also come a certain fear of it/discomfort with being underground. That was what the venom went after in the first severe hallucination. It's a very specific fear because it's something she's been warned about since she started training.

TwilightCharmedFaie: Him protecting her from the fire was something I added really late because I re wrote a good portion of that chapter so I'm glad you liked it :) It's sweet. They're usually sweet to each other.

hungergames98: There's not a whole lot of Katniss in this story, strangely enough, and that was actually their first interaction with her. I liked that Clove observed that she's got some serious guts. Yep.

Anyway, I'll post again soon :) Sorry for the epic AN.  
~Billy


	21. Chapter XIX: Covering 24

**Chapter 19: Covering 24**

"He can't have gone far, if he got anywhere at all. I'm telling you––" Cato grumbles as he, 2 and I begin our search for 24.

"We know. Calm yourself. We're just checking." He exhales forcefully through his nostrils, reminding me of a bull. "Oh," I blow air in his face. If anybody else tried that...well scratch that... why would they? I'm probably the only one ever who would think that something like that would bring someone back to calm. Cato blinks and I watch the offense he's taken to our decision to look for 24 leave his eyes and then the rest of him. "Thank you."

"What are you two doing?" 2 calls back to us. It probably looks strange. I'm less than a foot away from Cato, close enough to blow air in his face and 2 didn't see that.

"Nothing," I answer, stepping away quickly.

"Looks like nothing," he remarks with a slight smirk.

"I know it does." My answer is very sure, my tone very firm, countering his sarcasm. "So, let's start from where we jumped in and work our way along the river, shall we?" I look at Cato for approval. Cato nods and 2 turns away to scan the pebbles at our feet and the trees for signs of a trail. As Cato passes me, he gives me a smile, silently teasing me for having been so close, for letting 2 see, for the implication 2 got from our closeness. I roll my eyes, and then grin back anyway.

The search for 24 begins. I've got better eyes than either of the boys so they go together to the opposite bank, leaving me here to search the rocks myself. We stay roughly parallel to each other.

Maybe we underestimated this kid, or overestimated Cato's ability to cut people while infected with tracker jacker venom. I think this because it appears 24 did move. He left a pretty distinct trail of blood on the rocks for some distance past where he was cut. I don't call Cato and 2 back to me though. I'd prefer to look on my own. The last thing I need is 2 over here actually finding 24. I remember 24 being good with the paints. Hopefully he's hidden well enough that if I do find him, I can pretend I don't.

I stop at the last rock that I see blood on. I look around closely, kneel down to peer under rocks. If I'm close to him, the Capitol is either holding its breath or screaming with excitement. If I'm close to him, he's holding his breath and praying his heart doesn't beat too loudly. I'm looking but not touching. If he's as well hidden as I think he could be, all I need to do is touch his shirt and I'll have no choice but to kill him.

I see the tiniest flutter. 24's here and he's watching me through the smallest fraction of space between his eyelids. _Fool! Keep your eyes closed._ Other than that, he's as well hidden as I could have hoped. Even staring right at him, I can pretend I don't see him. I let no look of recognition pass my face, but peer curiously at the place where I saw his eyelashes. The Capitol will be completely mad by now, but I'm doing this for 24. I'm telling him without saying anything that I know he's here and that he needs to be very careful so I can cover for him.

I hear running footsteps to my right. straighten up, draw a knife from my sleeve and throw before I even realize who I'm throwing at. 2 dives aside, probably guessing that landing on the rocks is safer than taking my knife to the face. Cato dodges, then catches the knife by its handle. It's impressive, that's for sure, but not effortless and not without risk. I hear him exhale as he moves out of the way and see his concentration in his eyes and the way his teeth are clenched together.

"What the hell was that for?" 2 is yelling at me, too angry to notice me put my foot right in front of 24's eyes, my leg between his face and 2's line of vision. "We've been talking to you for over a minute!"

"Now who needs to calm herself?" Cato flips the knife around in his hand and gives me the handle.

"What were you looking at anyway?" 2 asks, walking around me.

"Just moss. There's nothing here."

"What were you looking at, then?" He asks too many questions.

"I thought I saw something, but I was wrong."

"Can you be sure? How do you know you weren't right the first time?" He steps closer to me and I'm forced to hold my ground or risk stepping on 24's face.

"She's got better eyes than either of us. If she says he's not here, then 23 must have gotten him first. Come on. Let's go back to camp." Cato's tone is firm. He's covering me and 2 knows by now that when Cato's covering for me, it's better just to play along.

As we make our way back, Cato looks at me out of the corner of his eye. He, his brother, and I have all kinds of codes. Looks, gestures, signals, none of which mean anything to anyone other than us. This sideways look in this situation is asking the obvious question: "Was 24 there, or not?" I make eye contact with him, just long enough to let him know to pay attention because I'm about to answer his question. Then I look down wait a beat, then look back up at him. A nod with only my eyes.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: so much tension! Clove helping Peeta and probably totally stressing him out. Freakin' Marvel...what even? Also, I'm listening to the books on audio CD now and I just remembered that we didn't even learn his name until Catching Fire. Weird, huh?

To my lovely reviewers:

Noelia: Here's the next chapter :) I'm glad you like the story and I hope you continue reading. It's always lovely to hear from you :)

TwilightCharmedFaie: You're supposed to like 6. He's intended to be likable, (which becomes an even bigger deal as the story goes on...mwaha you'll see...) maybe a little too chatty for Clove's taste but definitely likable. I think of the Career pack, he's the closest one to Peeta-ish goodness as it gets. And he's Foxface level smart too which is always helpful. I love writing friendly banter between Cato and Clove. I kind of feel like it fits them. Always 100% friends and good to each other and comfortable enough, secure enough with that knowledge that they can tease each other. I'm glad you like it too :)

I'll update again in a few days :) Happy reading until then!

~Billy


	22. Chapter XX: The Idea

**Chapter 20: The Idea **

When we return to our camp, 6, as usual, asks how it went. "Nothing," I tell him. "You'd have heard the cannon if we'd found anyone."

"She nearly knifed me though," 2 grumbles. I roll my eyes. That was hours ago.

"Bring us back something too," I tell him, seeing that he's heading for the food pile. He just grunts and hops over the mines. "You know what they should send me? Axes. I bet I could throw an ax. A little one. A tomahawk. What do you say, Cato? Tell them to send me an ax."

"You just told them as effectively as I can."

"I suppose I did."

We spent the rest of the day searching the woods for tributes. It must have been painfully dull for the Capitol after my encounter with 24, but if it was, they didn't show it. Nothing came to push us closer together with other tributes, which is fine with me. The fewer terrifying, life threatening things I see in here, the better. Still, by the time night has fallen we're all tired and ready for a good sleep. We wait to see the death toll, just in case we missed a canon but there's only the seal in the sky. No faces.

We split up shifts again between the four of us. Each of us takes a two hour shift. First me, then Cato, 2, and 6. During my shift, I start a project I've been wanting to get around to. I begin to cut holes in the lining of my jacket. Not holes. More like loops, and then I slide knives into them. Tied around my belt is great, but it's cleverer to have them concealed so close to my body. It takes me two shifts to complete it. I stay up with Cato for his, but go around the other side of the camp so he doesn't know I'm awake. Really, he wouldn't care, but for the sake of the Games, I have to be secretive.

Four hours in the dark is a lot of time to think. We haven't been able to push 12 together yet (unless she's found him since I saw him) and we can't take their plan of being together. Not this late in the game (no pun intended). How are we supposed to make the Capitol change their minds about the 'one victor only' rule? Can it be done? Even if the crowd wants it, will the Gamemakers allow it? Will Snow? I would much prefer they change that rule than have it come down to Cato and me taking those berries.

What if we give them a foil? What if they see 12 as tragically separated lovers and Cato and me as former friends and current competitors? If we separate, would they want to push us back together just for the tension? I feel like the Gamemakers want some more tension. These Games have been painfully slow. This idea occurs to me as I'm finishing with my jacket and I decide, rather than acting right now, to give myself a little time to think. I curl up under a blanket, pull my hood up over my head and burrow down, trying to keep warm.

6 rouses me at the end of his two hour shift. I push myself up and instruct him to go wake 2 as well. Time for breakfast and then another hunt. We hike back into the forest, leaving 6 as usual to guard the supplies. The hunt is futile. We find no one on the first day after we searched for 24. Sometimes we spot tracks but always they seem to vanish either into the stream, onto rocks, or simply into nothingness. We scour the areas where the tracks vanish, but are always forced to move on. This could turn nasty quickly if we're not careful. What if we come across as incompetent trackers? 23 has already made us look foolish enough. We don't want to make it worse by failing to track and kill other competitors.

I run through the remaining tributes in my head. 2, me, Cato, 6, 9, 20-24. What do I know about each of them? 2-6 are in my camp. They aren't targets just yet. Where have I seen 9? That crazy smart redhead. As far as I remember from training, she barely touched the weapons, but preferred to stay at the survival stations. That means that she's either a Johanna Mason, or a real weakling. I'm guessing she's the latter. We should have no problem killing her once we track her down. But that's the issue, isn't it? Finding her. Sticking to the survival stations and being as smart as she is has made her incredibly stealthy. She's also tiny so her tread will be light. I think I saw her at the Bloodbath, but since then, she's taken off and taken cover.

20, however, why haven't we found him? I was certain his foot would be a burden in here. Certainly it will leave a distinctive trail, should we come across it. How did he manage to get away on the first day? How has he fared since then? Where was he when they lit the forest on fire? I noticed nothing special about him in training, other than that lame foot. That was all I thought I'd need to notice because he seemed like an easy target. Apparently, he too had some hidden talent.

21, that little girl from 11. I watched her at the climbing station in training. She's so tiny, both short and skinny, that she was light and easily lifted herself up on the ropes. I try to think like 6 as I ponder where she could be, though of course I'm not going to concentrate on finding her until absolutely necessary. Little. light. District 11. Agriculture. I remember they said 11's a large District at school. I would have guessed as much; how else would they grow enough crops to feed Panem? They need space, unlike Districts 1, 3, or 5. If they need space to grow as much as they do, the must need people to work the fields, and if 21's old enough to be sent here, my guess is that she was also old enough to work. I'd guess that her District doesn't waist any of the crops and she's small enough that I'd bet she'd be one of the ones sent up higher to retrieve whatever grows up there. That's why she's such a talented climber. That must be how she's evading us. Climbing, staying up out of reach. Was it her I thought I saw on the morning we killed 15?

We all know where 22 is. He took over that massive field on the other side of the plain from the lake. Hm. I alter my theory about 21. Maybe they stuck together. Maybe she's in that field with him, guarded by him, helping him get food. That's possible. But then I realize that can't be right and I'm just confused because of all the pairing off I've seen in these Games. Cato and I, and 12 have teamed up (well, 12 will soon if they know what's good for them), but I never once saw 22 show an interest in 21. Not in helping her, not in protecting her, not even in using her. She's not with him. Damn. It might be easier to go after him if he was trying to defend her as well.

At dawn on the second day after we went looking for 24, we hear a canon. Immediately I sit up and look around camp, one knife in either hand. _Where's Cato?_ I'd call out his name but I don't want to look too suspicious, especially not after the idea I've been entertaining about giving 12 a foil. He's close to me, sitting up, a knife of his own in his hand. We make eye contact and I stand up to patrol once around our camp. 2 and 6 are still here. 6 looks confused, 2 annoyed.

"What was that?" 2 barks at me, getting to his feet, spear in hand. Who wakes up that angry?

"Obviously a canon." Smart one, he is.

"Who died?" As if I would know.

"Clearly not me so what do I care? One more down."

"Let's hope it's that giant from 11, huh?" Don't smirk at me like that.

"I'm gonna hope it wasn't him, actually, because the sooner he dies, the sooner our leverage with those two is over," 6 says, also standing. I think he wishes the canon hadn't sounded at all, that we could all just go home, but he doesn't dare say that aloud. 2 flushes, looking angry. He rounds on 6.

"I don't need leverage! I could kill any of you." Uh-huh. Let me know how that works out for you...if you're still alive at the end to talk.

"Ok, ok!" 6 holds his hands up in surrender. Fool, fight him back. "I was just saying––"

"Well, how about you stop 'just saying' before I get sick of you and pin you to the ground with this," he lunges at 6, but clearly not in such a way that 6 is in immediate danger. Still, I think it's time for 2 to calm down again. I step into the shaft of his spear pushing the tip away from 6 and putting myself between the two of them. Cato's up now and has walked over to the rest of us, an apple in each hand.

2 twists the spear, trying to pull it free of my grip and I push it back into him, forcing him away from me. He's too distracted by me to hear or see Cato throw one of the apples at the back of his head, which jerks forward with the impact. "Ow!" He puts a hand to the back of his head, his grip on the spear loosening considerably. I pull it the rest of the way free as he turns to face Cato. "What the hell––" he begins, but I put the tip of the spear hard into his back. Not so hard that I run him through, probably barely hard enough to draw blood but he feels it and whips around to face me.

I skewer the fallen apple on the end of the spear, then flip it up so it's level with 2's face. "Quit picking fights, 2. Eat your breakfast." I set the end of the shaft on the ground and let the spear fall against his chest. Then I brush past and Cato, and cross the plain to the food pile. Boys...

That afternoon, is when things start to go a little crazy. We see smoke, thick, dark smoke rise up in the sky. Who in the hell is burning that? Are they asking us to come after them? _Who cares? Move it._ I grab my pack, Cato takes his sword and spear and offers one to 6. 2 protests. They argue for a minute before I step in. "Shut up, will you? We're wasting time. Cato, why would we change anything now?" He glares at me and presses the spear into 6's chest.

"He's coming." His tone is very final and his eyes are on me, his expression cold. "And when we find her, I kill her in my own way and no one interferes." Well, he is justifiably angry with 23 and he does have to keep up the brutal District 2 face. I doubt she lit this fire though. She's smarter than that.

I turn back to 2 and 6, "Get going. We'll catch up." Looking half pleased, half concerned, 2 heads off in the direction of the fire. I turn my attention to Cato, who's still glaring. "Sorry," I tell him as the thought: 'since when do I ever take 2's side over his?' enters my head. "He'll slow us down though." I say it like I was forming my own argument, not siding with 2.

"Whatever," he mutters, walking past me. His gaze hasn't softened.

Damn. That wasn't supposed to happen. I stand still for a moment before turning and going after Cato. Once we're under the cover of the trees, I wriggle between the arm he's carrying the spear in and his body, and close my hand over his around the spear. My other arm goes around his waist. He looks down at me, surprise on his face now instead of annoyance. "I'm not afraid of you," I tell him again, just like on the train.

"Oh? Why not?" I steal a look up at his face, taking my eyes momentarily from the path 2 trampled through here a few minutes ago. Cato's fighting back a slight grin now.

"Because we aren't top two yet. You still have to be nice to me," I say with a smile.

He gives a small snort of laughter, hugs my shoulders to his side and mutters, "Friendly ally."

"That's right. But from now on I'll back you up where he's concerned." I jerk my head down the path, indicating 2. "And tell you if you were wrong later. Sound good?"

"Alright." I let go of him then so that when we catch up with 2 and 6, we won't look strange.

It's the fastest, longest hike of the games and we're fairly close to the smoke pile when the second fire is lit. "Come on!" 2 shouts. He's crazy, itching for a fight against an opponent he's sure to be able to overpower. Sure he could fight either Cato or me, but he knows he'd lose, and killing 6 would guarantee him a blade to the chest so he won't fight him either.

"Hang on a second!" I shout after him and he turns to face me, his eyes excited. "Doesn't this seem a little suspicious to you?"

"Tell you what," 2 claps me on the shoulder, "If you're scared of a trap, go back with 6. We'll get whoever's doing this." I push his hand off me, then shove him in the direction of the second fire.

"Move," I order. "And keep your hands to yourself." Cato's eyes meet mine but only for a second. When he sees the look on my face, he turns, glaring at 2's back, and follows him.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Wow, this is a long chapter but the next one is twice this in length. Jeez. So many things are happening.

To my lovely reviewers:  
First, I just want to real quick talk about the fact that I met and wrote with one of you on Omegle last night/this morning and that was really special. Also, I'm sorry I wasn't back on at 10. Turns out four hours wasn't quite enough sleep :( Anyway, you, my nameless reviewer are wonderful and made me all kinds of happy.

TwilightCharmedFaie: I can tell you about Peeta, just not really in the story because Clove wouldn't know. As far as her encounter with Peeta goes, he must have known something was up. I mean, he definitely knew she was there and definitely knew she saw him because she stared at him so long. He might have had a faint hope that she didn't see him, but I'd expect he's smarter than to genuinely believe that. He doesn't know why she's covering for him though. She had to pass it off for the Capitol like "There's something potentially suspicious here...but maybe not, moving on" but Peeta, who was really only inches from her, got a different message. "Fool! Keep your eyes closed so I can pretend I don't see you!" It would be completely unexplained and he'd be totally confused, but not really in a position to question or argue with her. Also, I hope you like Cato and Clove's post-almost-argument snugglin'

I love you guys and you make me feel special so thank you again :)

Next chapter will be up...Sunday?  
~Billy


	23. Chapter XXI: The Ambush and the Fight

**Chapter 21: The Ambush and the Fight**

We hear the first explosion and stop dead. That was no canon. "What was that?" Cato asks. How on earth should we know? Then there are more. Eventually the sounds blur together and I can't count them, but I guess that the mines around the food and supplies are going off. I'm thankful that I had the idea before now to start tying essential things to my belt and coat or to keep them in my bag.

"Maybe we should go back. This is looking more like a trap every minute," I answer. 2 glares at me. I don't sound scared. I'm not scared, but if our camp's exploding, we should go find out why. Cato pushes past 2 and we hurry shoulder to shoulder back to camp.

We start to smell smoke the closer we get and upon finally seeing our former camp, we realize our suspicions were correct. Someone blew up our supplies! Cato's instantly furious. Nothing is going right in here! We knew it wouldn't be easy, but why does even the easy stuff fall to pieces? 6 throws rocks into the remains, then declares it safe to approach what used to be our pile of supplies. I'm angry too, but spend the next several minutes looking through the debris. I don't think there's anything worth saving, but I continue to look, thinking.

If I were to pick a fight with Cato at all, right now would be the opportune moment. We're so high-strung already that it wouldn't be unreasonable, but I remember what we said about every decision being made by the team for the good of the team and decide against the staged fight. He'd have to be filled in and prepared for it and he isn't and if I did pick a fake fight, it wouldn't be unreasonable for him to think it's real which would be very bad.

I turn my thoughts instead to our attacker. Cato didn't believe we'd be raided but look what's happened now? 6 was supposed to prevent something like this from happening! His mines weren't supposed to blow up the supplies, just the tribute who tried to get close to them. He's done his task too well. The best we can hope for at this rate is that the mines were set off by some opponent, preferably 22 if you ask me, and that the explosions took care of him for us. We could have easily missed the canon.

This next canon, the one that brings me back to reality, does not go unheard. I turn away from the pile of debris to see Cato drop 6's body on the ground, still looking like he's seeing red. That's at least two, probably three deaths and more than two dozen explosions between dawn and twilight. Who says our Games are slow? 2 hangs back, wary of Cato, but I move closer. I'm not afraid of him. I trust him. No matter what, we're a team. "No matter what..." I say, reminding him of our evenings in the Capitol. The Capitol won't understand this, but he will and it ought to calm him at least enough for me to be able to safely get closer. He says nothing, only nods, his eyes still hard. 2 doesn't dare come within arm's reach of him right now and indeed most of Panem must think I'm crazy for standing here, but it means more to Cato than they know. "We'll figure it out," I tell him.

"We should go back out there," he says, looking at the woods, "Whoever did it can't have gone all that far." Really? Because I'll bet they're on their way back to the Capitol right now. This is the greatest flaw in either of us as fighters. Though we can wipe our faces blank, anger can cloud our judgement, our senses of reason and make stupid things like that come out of our mouths.

"No," I tell him. "I bet they were killed in the explosions. They're probably on their way to the Capitol to be stitched back together before they're sent home. Who else knew about the trap? We should wait for the seal and the death toll from today to see who it was and who we've still got to hunt down."

"I agree with her," 2 chimes in, still standing back a ways. "They'll show their picture up there," he gestures to the place where the seal will appear in a half hour or so. "We should see who it was, rest here for a while––"

"No! Are you crazy? Whoever set that fire––" 2 was right to agree with me and what I need to do is tell Cato he's not sound for decision making right now, but with our disagreement of earlier so close in my memory, I'll have to settle for insisting on my plan and quieting 2.

I whip my head around and shout at 2 "Would you shut up?" He looks confused. All he did was agree with me. He could point that out, but he's just smart enough to know not to. I turn back to Cato and explain to him what must have been happening over the past few hours. "I think whoever set those fires was trying to trap us. Whoever it was set the first one, took off, set the second one and probably took off again. The must have been luring us away from camp so an accomplice could do this." I gesture to the pile. "Who knows, maybe 9 and 22 were working together?" I haven't seen either of them since the games began. I voice the thought I'm most hoping for. "She set the fires and he came here to collect supplies and got himself blown up. But if we go back in the woods even if we head straight for the second fire, I doubt we'll find anyone. 9 is smart enough to know not to hang around there. Let's wait for the seal, ok?" I doubt he needed that entire explanation though. When I turned back from shutting 2 up, he looked considerably more relaxed.

"Ok." He answers. "Let's go to the lake to fill up the water and wait."

I agree and we cross the plain to the lake. 2 walks on my other side, as if he had been included in this decision. We hear the hovercraft pick up 6's body but none of us bothers about it. Instead, we wait for the anthem and the death toll. Each of us occupies him or herself with something different. I wash sweat and grim from my face, neck, and hands; 2 sits scared for his safety, which is a legitimate concern at this point; Cato has his eyes on me, leaning forward with his arms around his knees. He looks relaxed, compared with his anger earlier. When we see the light from the seal reflecting off the water, we all look up. 6's face appears in the sky, followed by 20's. He must have been the canon from this morning. I wonder what happened to him. In the brief pause before the seal reappears, I sincerely believe I'm about to see 22, which would of course mean we kill 2 right here and now, but then there it is. The seal's back in the sky and then it's gone again. No more news from outside the arena. Whoever blew up our supplies survived by some miracle.

Cato opens his pack and fiddles around inside it to find the night vision goggles we collected at the beginning. I do the same and 2 rises to search for a suitable branch to be used as a torch. Once we're all ready to go, we walk back into the woods, Direction: Second Fire.

We find nothing, however. No sign of the fire-starter, no sight of the bomber. Our only company is each other for the next several hours. We don't see so much as a rabbit, though of course we're trampling around, not concerned with hunting. I can behead small animals with my knives when we get hungry. We find the remains of the second fire, a huge pile of blackened wood, like a bonfire. Yes, this was a trap. No one in their right mind would ever build a fire this big unless they were asking us to come after them. I'm fuming as we leave the fire. If we'd never gone this way, we'd never have lost our supplies and 2 is largely to blame. We could have turned back when the second fire was lit like I suggested but he was so hell-bent on having a fight that we pressed on. Damn his stupidity! Damn our softness! Since when does he call the shots around here?

As dawn approaches, we remember we've been up for something like thirty hours straight and decide we need to sleep. Cato takes the first shift and once I'm sure 2 is asleep, I curl up with him. It's still freezing out here, colder in the woods rather than on the plain because there's no fire to huddle close to. But Cato doesn't mind. He lets me lay my head on his legs and rests one hand over my exposed ear, keeping it warm. His fingers brush hair off my face and when I fall asleep, I still feel them there.

Unfortunately, he has to wake me a few hours later. He can't very well wake 2 without waking me, and even if he could, would it really be wise to let 2 see me sleeping as I am? I sit up when I feel him gently shaking my shoulder. "My turn," I mutter, trying to rouse myself. Three or four hours isn't really sufficient but I'll have to make due. He presses the heels of his palms into his quads and rubs down toward his ankles. His legs are numb but he's trying to make it look like he's just stretching. I give him an apologetic smile and he shrugs. The temperature has gone up significantly so I remove my jacket and sit on it instead. Cato does the same but uses his as a pillow instead and curls up beside me. I put a hand on the top of his head, sort of like the way we sleep up in the mountains. Just to let him know that I am here.

I'm tired, more tired than I've been for any other shift which means I don't hesitate this time to rouse 2 the minute my shift is over. Once 2's ready, I curl up beside Cato. He woke up when I took my hand off his head, but tactfully kept still and quiet. He must be awake as I roll my jacket up and lay my head down on it because a few seconds later, I feel pressure on my shoulder, his hand resting protectively on me.

When I wake, I'm momentarily confused as to why I'm in the woods and not sleeping in the mouth of the Cornucopia as usual. Then I remember the fires, the explosions, and 6's murder from the night before. Cato's right hand still rests on my shoulder. "Morning, princess," 2 greets me. I sit up, pushing Cato's hand off me, intentionally rousing him but in a subtle enough manner that 2 won't suspect me of not wanting to be alone with him. "How was your nap?" He smirks at me, watching Cato sit up behind me.

"Did you kill anything for breakfast?" I ask him, ignoring his question. If he's going to say good morning in the middle of the afternoon, I can call a late lunch breakfast, right? "Or have you just been sitting there uselessly for the last three hours?" His smirk turns to a glare. I make an exasperated noise and push myself to my feet. "You two get a fire going. I'll go find us something to eat." I hear movement but no words from either of them as I walk away.

I walk lightly on my toes, careful of where I step and soon I've killed two rabbits and a squirrel, via a knife to their necks. When I bring them back to our makeshift camp, I hand Cato one rabbit and 2 goes to grab the other. Rather than give it up though, I hit him with it and drop the dead squirrel in his lap. "If you want something bigger, go kill it yourself," I tell him. He looks jealously at the rabbit Cato's cleaning. "He's different. I like him right now." 2 grumbles and begins inexpertly skinning, gutting, and cleaning his smaller meal. I ignore him and sit down beside Cato. We roast the rabbits and squirrel over the fire and dig in. Once we're finished, we scatter the remains of our fire so no one else will know we were here.

We pack what's left over of our rabbits and squirrel and take to hunting the other tributes again. I would guess no one is foolish enough to be anywhere near the place where we were so we move quickly away from there. When we find the remains of the first fire, just as large as the second, any and all rage I felt toward 2 is rekindled and multiplied. Very dangerous for him. "You see?" I shout at him. "I told you! Didn't I tell you both! It was a trap and if it weren't for you," I shove 2 and he raises his spear defensively, but I'm not afraid of him. "We'd have never gone after them and never lost the supplies!"

"Hey, it was your choice to come with us. You could have stayed back with that kid from 3," 2 reminds me. "Maybe if you'd been there with him, you'd have been able to stop the bomber and you wouldn't have had to watch him die." He says it like he thinks watching 6's death bothered me, like he thinks I cared for 6. That's the last thing I need, for him to go planting ideas in the heads of sponsors that I was in any way interested in anyone in this arena.

"You shut your mouth!" I growl at him, drawing a knife from my left sleeve, holding it poised to stick him through the sternum. He bends his knees, prepared to lunge at me with the spear, but before we can do anything more than that, I feel one of Cato's arms around my waist, the other forearm pressed against my throat, one hand holding my shoulder, the other gripping my side and he lifts me up and turns me away from 2.

"I don't care how angry what you are with me or him," he snarls in my ear. His grip really is tight and I wonder what on earth is wrong with him. He's hurting me. I don't dare drop my knife, but my left hand goes to the fingers of his right, trying to pry them free of my shoulder, but he digs them in tighter, presses his fingertips into my joint. "We lost our supplies; you lost your 6. Get over it and quickly because fighting one of your only remaining allies won't help you. It won't change anything. We've still got 22 to deal with, haven't we?" 2 has made no move to hurt either one of us, but stands still, spear still defensive, and watches this uncharacteristic fight.

Then Cato shoves me hard away from him, nearly knocking me off balance. I just manage to stay on my feet and whirl around to face him again, my knife drawn back to defend myself if either of them comes near me again. I don't know what's wrong with Cato. He's never done anything like that, but if the coldness in his eyes is any indication, whatever's the matter with him hasn't let him go yet. I'm so angry that I can't even bring myself to say our, "No matter what,", our reminder that we're a team, to him. My throat aches but I don't touch it. I won't let him know he's hurt me. I won't be that weak. I don't cough or splutter but force myself to breath through my nose as I give him the nastiest look I can muster.

"Maybe we should..." 2 begins. Both our heads snap to look at him. "Maybe we should meet up again at the Cornucopia. Later, once we're calm again. We'll cover more ground that way and we'll be quieter."

I flip my knife around in my hand, gripping it tightly when I catch it again and stand up straight. The sound the knife makes bounces around in the silence between us for a moment before I answer him, "No offense, 2, but I'm not inclined to take your advice right now. It is what got us into ––" But Cato speaks over me and I feel the same betrayal he must have felt when I backed 2 yesterday instead of him.

"He's right. About all of it. We'll meet up again tomorrow."

I'm furious and confused but I'm not about to let them in on that. Instead, I lift my head and say coldly, "Fine." I take a step back from them, then turn as walk purposefully away, my feet still quiet on the pine needles littering the forest floor. I keep my knife drawn and ready, prepared to protect myself against anything.

Simply because my body is alert does not mean my mind can't wander. I find myself dwelling on Cato's words, as well as 2's. The way 2 said, "You wouldn't have had to watch him die." As if he thought 6's death was harder on me than any of the others I've witnessed in here. I wonder what that was about before I remember what Cato asked me on our first night here. "Do you have a thing for him?" Has it really looked like I cared for 6 the way 24 cares about 23? "I don't care how angry you are with me or him," Cato had said. He was the one who killed 6. He did it after he told me to and I did nothing. Does he think I'm upset with him because he killed some boy I barely knew? Is that why he grabbed me when I went after 2? 2 provoked him by bringing 6's death into the mix. And straight after he mentioned 6, I got defensive and told him to shut his mouth. Not only that, but just about every time 6 was in trouble in here, I backed him up. No one else. Just me. And I was the one who suggested we take him into the Alliance. I've led them to believe I liked that little twerp! Damnit!

Boys are so stupid! Did they never consider the age gap between us? He was, what? Fourteen at most? I turned eighteen on the second day in the arena. That's at least a four year difference. No, thank you!

Frustrated and deciding I'm hungry, I throw my knife at a squirrel in a tree. The blade sticks him in the gut and he drops to the ground, squirming. Dammit! I grit my teeth against the apology I would ordinarily utter for a stupid mistake that caused such a painful death and spill the rest of the creatures blood. Then I scatter the leaves and pine needles so no one will know I was here.

I rest a while, cleaning the meat, then light a small fire, roast what little meat was not damaged by my faulty throw and begin to eat before I remember that I'm still carrying the rest of the rabbit in my pack. Ah, well. I'll save that for later.

Sometime in late afternoon, a cannon fires, followed five minutes later with another. I wonder what's happened. I won't find out until I get out of the arena, or meet someone friendly and well-informed enough to tell me. Ha! The most I can do is wait for the anthem to play to tell me who's dead. Maybe 2 met up with 22 and they had it out. Maybe they fought and 2 killed him but died of his injuries. That would be fine with me. Still the canons remind me of where I am and that I can't afford to sit here eating right beside a fire. I need to keep searching for other tributes. I stamp out the fire, scatter the remains, check my supplies and continue walking.

I walk for another hour before I find anything interesting. A clearing. Even if I didn't see the two bodies lying in the fading light, I would not enter it. You're a sitting duck in an open area like that. These must be the two bodies of the two dead tributes from earlier. Why has no hovercraft come to collect them?

As I look at 21 I hazard a guess at why not. She's covered in flowers. The only way I can tell it's her is her size and strands of her curly black hair poking through the spaces between the stems of the flowers. Whoever did that must have been here for the hour in between the cannons and now. They must have been the one to cover her in flowers. I can see the spear that pierced her but the wound that cost her her life has been decorated with flowers.

2 lies on his side, blood soaking the grass and dirt around his head. From here I can see the torn skin in his neck. It's small. Not knife sized like it would have been if Cato had gotten him. Good. I'm glad I can rule Cato out of this fight. I don't want him to be the one who killed 21.

No, whatever killed 2 was smaller. An arrow? So, judging by what 6 guessed, 23 was involved. That would make sense. 2 went off in this direction and ran into 23 and before she shot him, he speared 21. I see ropes on the tree behind 21 and change my theory. He set this trap. 2 did. I don't know when, but then again, he doesn't know when I turned my jacket into a weapon. And when Cato and I had our fight, he went off to check it, found 21, killed her and was then shot by 23.

My eyes wander again to 21's small lifeless form. Her greatest defense must have been 23. I never saw her excelling with weapons at training and she didn't take much from the Cornucopia. Whatever was in front of her plate would, I suppose, have been easy enough to scoop up before sprinting for the cover of the trees. I don't know how she made it out here on her own with virtually no supplies whatsoever. She was unarmed and he speared her! Bastard! If 23 hadn't already gotten him, I'd destroy him for this. We told them not to hurt her! That spear in her diaphragm can't have been painless!

As it is, 2 is already dead and I'm not about to run out into that clearing. I look back at 2 and before I make the effort to stop myself, the words "Good for you, Fire Girl," escape my lips. It's the closest I've come thus far to addressing someone other than Cato by name, and certainly the first time I've been at all happy for her, happy she got to 2. No matter what sympathies I had for the girl, her ally should have the pleasure of killing her murderer. Immediately after the words leave my lips, my eyes sweep the clearing and the trees around me. It wasn't loud but if someone was close, they could have heard me. I draw one of my knives, take another look around then turn and leave the clearing. I hear the hovercraft overhead a minute later.

I'm freezing when the sky lights up and the anthem plays. 2's face appears followed by 21's. So this is why they play the deaths right before we all should be going to sleep. To get the images to come back to our minds if we've seen our competitors die. _Think of something else. _Before I give myself nightmares of the death of that poor little girl, I tie myself to a new tree and try to find some comfortable and warm way to sleep.

It's fruitless and I wake up exhausted again. Exhausted and hungry. "Fine," I say to myself. That's not good. I've heard people start talking to themselves if they spend too much time alone. They go crazy. _No, Clove, you don't go crazy. You go home. _

I pass today like I did yesterday, hunting more: more squirrels, rabbits, finding berries and other edible plants. If I'm not one hundred percent positive about a berry, I leave it entirely alone. The last thing I need is to touch a nightlock muttation and have it get death juice all over my nice protein. All day I scour the woods for any of my remaining competitors: 9, 22, 23. I don't think I'll find 24 out here though. He won't be wandering around the woods. I'm sitting with my back against a tree, not quite ready to continue hiking or return to the Cornucopia when I hear the anthem play, followed by the trumpets that precede an announcement. I listen attentively.

There has been a change in rules. Two tributes, if they hail from the same District may be crowned victors this year. Two of us. Cato and I. I'm packing my gear and up on my feet, beaming as Claudius Templesmith repeats his message. That crazy plan worked! Letting 12 live. Our fight. Ha! Take that, Brutus! _Where's Cato?_ I decide the best bet I have of finding him is going right now to the Cornucopia. It was our established meeting place after all.

I hike for maybe two hours through the night to get back to the Cornucopia. There's no sign of Cato on the plain so I circle the horn and find him curled up as usual in the mouth. He's covered in a blanket, one of the few things that remain to us since the blowing up of the mines, and he appears to be sleeping. He must genuinely be angry with me if he didn't even wait for me to arrive here. I need to talk to him. Honestly, quietly so that the Capitol won't hear.

It's cold enough again that I can justify curling close to him. I drape one arm over him, holding gently to his shoulder with my hand, and resting my head near his. I let my hair fall over my face to cover my mouth. By now, he must be awake. Arrogant we may be, but when you're in the arena and someone touches you in your sleep, you wake the hell up and fast. He must know it's me though because he doesn't move. "Cato," I whisper. When he doesn't answer, I continue, "Cato, can I talk to you?" I notice that his arm is shaking beneath mine, but I don't hear his teeth chattering so it must not be from the cold.

"No," is his reply and he makes no effort to keep his voice down. It's low and dangerous, just as it was yesterday. He's never used that tone with me before yesterday. "Get off me."

"Wait a second," I keep my voice gentle, non aggressive. "Let me-,"

"Move! Now, or I'll hurt you!" I guess this is it then, time to find out if he's acting or not. If he is, he'll hit me and it'll be up to me to react like it hurts. If he's not, he'll hit me and it will hurt.

"We're allies, remember?" I say, but I hear his breathing quicken and his arm is still shaking, "We did it." It's now that I know he's not been acting. He's never hit me so hard in my life. The arm that had been shaking so badly had apparently been holding back the jerk that sent his elbow into my ribs, knocking any and all breath from my lungs. I'm lying on my back, struggling to catch my breath when I feel his forearm at my throat. My eyes go wide.

"Don't touch me again, got it? You lied to me!" he snarls at me. "We're only allies because they said that's the game they want to see." He puts more weight on the arm at my throat. Some choked sound involuntarily escapes my lips, but the pressure's gone in a second as Cato uses that arm to push himself up, then he walks away from me. It doesn't much matter to me where he's gone because my eyes are streaming and I can't breathe.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Holy crap is this a long chapter! I never thought any of my chapters would be this long but it's exciting! I've now officially posted more than 100,000 words to this site. :) I hope the length makes up for the delay. Remember that time I told you guys I'm always wanting to rewrite everything right before I post it? Well, this chapter was rewritten. Probably 75% is not how it was originally. Basically the reason for that is that I needed Marvel to be on his own and the way I'd originally thought to do it was to have the entire Career pack separate for a time. As Cato and Clove were the two holding it together, a fight between the two of them would break the Alliance. Originally, Clove staged a fight, but I didn't like that because what she said to him was too mild; it was supposed to make him angry but the way it worked out was that he was really irrationally angry. I mean, he's mad in this one too and I'd assume you can see why, but Clove's mad as well, though trying to amend things by the end.  
Speaking of the end of this chapter, I think it's kind of sad because he hits her and that NEVER happens, which I hope I made clear. He is genuinely good to her and she to him and the'd never hit each other outside the arena. This violent behavior is totally out of the ordinary.  
Another reason for the delay was that I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep her finding Rue and Marvel's bodies. It almost seemed a little MarySue ish if she was in on everything, (Peeta's position for a minute there, and Rue's death) but I wanted to show that she truly felt for Rue, so much in fact that she didn't have the normal Career sense to shut her mouth when she saw her body. Also it's mad tense because we all know Katniss was right there close to her but they of course were out of each other's line of vision.  
Hm...I think that's all I have to say on the content of this chapter. Sorry again for the delay :( It might be a couple of days before the next chapter comes out as well. Just a heads up.

To my lovely reviewers

Oh my goodness, you guys! I went sailing the day you all reviewed and I was gone for a little over 4 hours and then BAM! I had seven reviews! It was crazy! Thank you all so much. I so look forward to hearing from all of you all the time.

TwilightCharmedFaie: So this isn't quite post-almost-argument snuggling and I hope that doesn't disappoint you. It will get better. No worries. Turns out her contemplating and deciding against staging a fight wasn't her decision but when I first wrote this chapter, like I said, she did stage the fight. As I said, it'll get better.

Noelia: You don't ever have to be sorry for not reviewing. I love hearing from you and will gladly read every bit of feedback you give me, but I also consider it a gift, not a right. I totally agree. If Peeta and Clove weren't in the arena, they would definitely become friends. It might take some time and effort on both their parts because they're very different people with very different means of protecting their loved ones, but they'd be friends.

hungergames98: You too! Don't feel bad! I hope you had fun on your vacation :) I get really excited when I get tons of reviews so the other day I showed them to my mother and your long review just about had her in tears. Thank you so much for that (not for making her cry but for the review itself). I'm so glad I inspire you :) That's the best!  
I love writing those little moments of friendship between them, like in this chapter before their fight, the way they sleep with their hands on each other. I like the idea of something as simple as a hand on a shoulder making someone feel so secure.  
You're right, it is a little strange that Cato says nothing, but I figure the reason he attacked 24 to begin with was because when he went back (either to make damn sure 12 were together or to collect a fallen weapon) he didn't really have a choice but to fight 24. It'd look a little strange if he just pushed him at 23 and shouted at them to run away, so he fought him, injured him (probably more severely than he intended because his body wasn't cooperating with the venom inside it), and then hoped he'd be alright. Does that make sense?

Ghanaperu: With you bringing up that Cato and Clove's relationship is the opposite of 12's, it's funny that Clove was talking about creating a foil to 12 in the previous. They already are a foil, aren't they, even if the Capitol doesn't know.  
Aha! This is where you figure out about 6 and Cato. I think this was another reason it's taken me so long to post this: I didn't want Cato's issues with 6 to seem like they've come out of nowhere. Does it seem that way?  
So this is the 'two can win' announcement, but after the fight, things are a little tense, clearly. Really you see the effects of the two can win a little later, once these two have calmed down a bit. I'm glad you pointed out that she's really good at hiding her emotions because that ties in to when she sees Rue and doesn't hide. It shows that it really hit home with her and I'm glad you pointed that out.  
Oh! The canon was for the boy from 10. I kind of liked the idea of keeping it a mystery from the other four. I feel like every death Katniss doesn't see she attributes to the Careers but I figured they can't be the only ones out there killing people. Maybe Thresh or some natural cause got him. Of course that's never explained in the book so I had a little bit of room there.

So the more I read your reviews, the sadder I become with this chapter. Everybody loves them together and now they're mad at each other! Oh no! I'll assure you guys though that it does work out. Don't hate me. The lovely Day of Diana told me a while back that every story needs a low point. Well, they're in the Hunger Games which isn't any fun, but she said to leave this fight in here. Don't hate me. It gets better again.  
~Billy


	24. Chapter XXII: The Lake and then Safety

**Chapter 22: The Lake and then Safety**

After Cato walked away last night, I spent several minutes curled up on the ground, my hands around my throbbing ribs as I coughed and gasped, struggling to rid myself of the feeling of his forearm on my throat. Once my body had calmed down, I began to slowly remember how very cold it was, even in the Cornucopia. I curled up under Cato's abandoned blanket and lay there awake for a long time, unable to close my eyes for more than a few seconds. Eventually, incapable of even lying still with so much open unseen space behind me, I'd stood up and moved gingerly back as far as possible into the mouth. There, I lay down again, my back pressing up against the metal wall. There I stayed, a knife gripped in my right hand, my eyes glued to the entrance of the mouth should anyone unwelcome join me. With the knife for comfort and security, I forced myself to sleep.

When I wake, Cato is the first thing I see. The Cornucopia is still dark and the temperature still cold as late October at home, but I'd know him anywhere. He's sitting in the mouth with me, but barely. His body is barely covered by the metal overhang. I can't tell if he's just woken up or if he's been up all night keeping watch.

Knowing the day has to start sometime, despite the fact that I'd much rather just lay here, I push the blanket off me and fold it up. Then I set it beside me and open my pack, hoping to find something to eat before I remember I ate the last of my rabbit last night as I walked back here. I'm always worried about food going bad so I end up eating it all probably too quickly. Damn. I'm hungry.

I sling the pack over my shoulder and feel my ribs give an unpleasant throb. I ignore the pain until I've got my pack secure, then I unzip my jacket and pull up the bottom of my filthy shirt. A large dark bruise has already swelled up and spread out from the point of contact, but my skin is tender for probably another two inches around the edge, telling me it's only going to look worse before it looks better. I push the shirt back down but keep my jacket unzipped; it's too hot to want to wear it anyway. Then I stand, take Cato's blanket in my arms and approach him.

"Your blanket," I tell him, dropping it on the ground beside him. He says nothing but acknowledges me moves a hand to rest on top of folded blanket. "I'm hungry. I'll be back." My tone is clipped, my words terse. It couldn't be more evident that I'm furious with him. As I walk away toward the forest, his voice stops me.

"I got..." I turn around and see him holding up half a dead...bird of some sort. Already cooked. That's when I notice the charred remains of a fire he lit, just outside the entrance of the Cornucopia, in the same spot where I built my teepee on the day we collected nightlock.

To give in and take it from him, or to be stubborn and take off hunting in the woods? I'm too hungry for stubborn so I walk back to him, take the dead bird and sit down a few feet away from him. The pack bothers my shoulders so I remove it and begin eating.

"Your neck is bruised," he tells me, then drops his eyes to the ground.

"Really?" Well, that wasn't exactly supposed to come out of my mouth. I can't decide whether my tone is sarcastic or indifferent. I avoid his gaze as well, keep my eyes on the strip of meet I tear from the bone.

There's a long pause, probably close to twenty seconds, before he speaks again. "How's your side?"

"I'll live," I tell him curtly. Then I turn and throw a clean bone onto the blackened wood behind me. He just nods. That's as much as we exchange in the morning.

Once I've eaten my fill, we pack camp and move into the woods, searching for...who? 1 are dead. 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 are all dead too. 9, 22-24 and us. We have no idea where any of them might be hiding so I suppose it's good we're not speaking to each other. We hunt, both for tributes and more food. If we make a kill, we stop briefly to wrap it up and pack it in my bag. He's carrying the remaining supplies, including the blanket. We gather some fruit and plants as well, being very careful and making sure not to eat anything we aren't absolutely positive is safe.

Any decision that needs making is made in silence. A gesture, a nod, a shake of the head, simply turning and going the opposite direction. It's our code, the one we've developed over the last nine years, but using it now is cutting, cold. I can't tell who is making it so, him or me. I have every right to be angry with him, but I try instead of brooding, to think. My throat and my ribs hurt from last night. _Think past that, smart one._ I don't understand what he meant. I lied to him? About what? What did I lie to him about that would make him so mad? And really, who lied to whom, here? "No matter what happens, we're a team," huh, Cato? So much for that!

"We should light a fire during the day. We've got to be far enough away from everyone that even if they see the smoke they won't come this far out of their way to find us," he suggests. It's the first thing he's said to me since this morning.

"You're sure we won't end up like 15?" I try for a grin, trying to joke with him for both our sakes. We cope with everything using humor. Shouldn't I be able to stomach my anger long enough to at least try?

"We'll be fine." His voice isn't his own, but I'm glad to hear that it's lost the bitter quality it had last night. "We'll build it, wait till it gets hot enough, then put it out and roast everything over the rest." I swallow and nod. We gather firewood, clear a patch of ground anything that will be sure to increase the smoke and then I set to building a teepee while Cato tries to get a spark going by rubbing a stick against a thick strip of bark.

When I finish, I sit back on my heals and watch him for a minute or two. His teeth are gritted in frustration. "Lyme said you've got to let air get to it," I remind him. With a noise of irritation he throws the sticks away.

"You do it." I watch him pace, giving him time to cool down before giving him the order.

"Calm yourself and come back here." If we're not friends right now, we have to still be allies who can function as a team. There's no note of persuasion in my voice. I'm telling him what to do. He drops his shoulders, looks up at the sky, which is taking on an odd gray quality, exhales forcefully and returns to my side. "You put a hole in it. We need another-," he hands me another flat piece of wood. "Right." I'm no whiz with fire, but I remember the process and Cato's got the strength and endurance to get it to work. I dig out a trench in the sand and set the flat wood perpendicular to it. "Try again. I'll help. If I remember right, it's a two person job anyway."

He does as I tell him, knowing that right now, I'm more sound for decision making because he's so annoyed. As we start to see smoke, I lower my face so that the side of my head is on the ground and blow gently. When the smoke wavers, I stop, worried. I lean over and grab something that can serve as a fan and fan the smoke, which, after a minute ignites. It's a little flame, but we've made fire. "Here," he says, beaming, seemingly forgetting that we're not friends right now. I move out of the way as he puts the flint inside the teepee. As we watch the tiny flame grow, we hear a roar behind us and feel heat far too great for our little fire.

Instantly, we turn and realize we're facing a wall of flames spitting fireballs. We've set off this pod again! It must be a massive pod because we're not in the same part of the forest as before. Horrified, we stand up, abandon our supplies except for everything currently attached to us and pelt away from the heat. "The lake!" I shout over the roar of the fire.

"I'll follow you! Go!"

"You're faster! You go ahead!" Wait, what did he just say? If we're not friends, if he hates me as much as he seems to, why is he risking his life to stay behind me?

"Move!" We never stopped running but there's an imperative tone in his voice and I know that for his sake, I need to lead.

"Fine, but don't you dare make me turn around to look for you!" I shout back at him.

"I'm right here. Run!" We're fast, very fast. It's one of the reasons we were the tributes selected by 2 for the Games. Even with trees in our way, heat dehydrating us and smoke choking us, we keep enough distance between us and the wall of fire that we're never burned. Still, terrified and beginning to feel slightly sick, I make as straight of a line as I dare to the lake. As far as I know, it is still the safest place.

Smoke is making my eyes stream so the immersion into the water is a welcome relief. I exhale slowly as I plunge into the lake, keeping the water out of my nose but fully aware of the sound the water makes in my ears. We're safe in here as long as there's nothing too sinister. I pick my head up and the rushing doesn't go away. More fire has pursued us, even in here. It appears that the surface of the water is on fire. So this is why the fire came from behind us. The Gamemakers intended to push us toward the lake, which has quickly turned from a place of safety and refuge to a nightmare. Our lake, our greatest source of fresh water is also one of their pods!

"Cato!" I scream over the din. There's fire not five feet from me in all directions. All of it higher than my head. I can't see him. When he doesn't answer, I really begin to panic. I cry his name again but there's no answer. Then suddenly, everything stops. No more fire, not on land or in the water. I see him. He's facedown and I'll kill him for it! This is no time to be unconscious! Maybe out of relief, maybe trying to wake him, I shout his name again and begin a freestyle stroke toward him when the fire bursts out again, and this time some of it is right in my face. "Come on, Seneca!" I shout, frustrated, propelling myself backward. The fire stops one more and I make it past the first wall before it starts again. If I don't get him out, he'll drown. As I realize this, my arms do something weird, like flail, and my head slips under the water, long enough for me to register two things:

There are things other than Cato and me in this water. Some nasty looking fish have joined fire stops at the surface.

I kick myself back up, inhale as much air as I can, hold my breath and plunge back under. My eyes are wide, looking for fish that need to be avoided and trying to find Cato. When I see a shoe and the stripes of red that are on all of our pants, all thoughts of avoiding fish vanish and I swim straight for him. As I reach him, I register that I think I may have kicked something, but I don't care. I turn him over which is a mistake because the pale blue mask that has replaced his face terrifies me more than anything I've seen thus far because I know it's real. I can't curl up into his chest, hold onto him, and say his name and wait for the hallucinations to stop.

_Save him! Get yourselves out of here!_ Thank goodness I had Enobaria for a trainer. She never said those words exactly, but I can guess that's what she's saying now. Her ruthless voice in my head is all that gives me strength to do what I need to.

I wrap one arm around his chest and begin to swim as quickly as I can toward what I think is the shore. When the fire dies down, I see that I'm right and I try to get as close to it as I can before it comes up again. This is incredibly risky because I don't know exactly where it'll pop up next, but I don't think about anything other than the fact that Cato's not breathing, at least not until I feel the searing pain in my left hand. I can't help it. It feels as if I've stuck my hand into a forest of electrifying needles. I jump, pull my hand away, tuck it to my chest, stick my head under the water and look for whatever it was that shocked me. Despite all my reading, I don't know much about aquatic life. This creature is blue, tinged slightly with orange as more fire erupts above it. The tentacles in front of me must have some kind of defense mechanism that stabs anything that touches them. I don't think this thing can be particularly intelligent because its puffy top curves funnily, propelling itself right into the fire on the surface of the water and it is incinerated. When the body is gone and the long bluish tentacles have fallen down in the water, my path is clear. I give a very Cato-ish roar of desperation and frustration. Throwing all caution out the window and disregarding the pain in my hand, I swim for shore.

The Capitol seems to have had their entertainment because there are no more strange fish in the water and there's no more fire before I reach the shore and once there, everything leaves us alone. I'm shaking as I drag Cato out. I pull him as far up the bank as I can before I collapse with his shoulders on top of my legs. They didn't train is in CPR in Career training (what Career will need to know how to revive someone?), but I read and Peacekeepers know how to do it. I check for breath and heart sounds, knowing I won't hear anything. Then I take a deep breath as I place both my hands on the center of his chest and push down using all the strength in my arms as well as the weight of my upper body. I force myself to remain calm, medical calm, doctor calm. _Count._ Thirty compressions at a rate of one hundred beats a minute. I'm not sure if I've my timing is exactly right, but I stop after about twenty seconds. "Cato?" I say, but he remains motionless. "Hey!" I shake his shoulder, fairly certain that is not part of CPR but desperate for a response. Nothing happens. I've never done this to a live person before, but it's the best chance I have. I place my right hand on his forehead, my left under his chin. I push his head back and tilt his chin up, trying to open his airway.

I lean down, hoping like I never have in my life that I'll feel his breath on my skin but there's nothing still. No! Wake up, damn you, and breathe! With two fingers on my right hand, I hold his nose closed. Then I cover his mouth with mine and breathe for him, one quick gust of air to see if I can get his chest to rise. My left hand, which rests again in the center of his chest, moves very slightly. I breathe again for him, the same push of air as before, sit up again, place my right hand on top of my left on his chest and press down again. If I'm not careful, I could crack a rib which could then puncture a lung and then he really will be a goner. _Oh, that's productive! Calm yourself and fix this. _

Over the next twenty seconds, I give him another thirty chest compressions. I'm talking to him, "Come on. Come on, breathe! Breathe!" He doesn't, so I breathe for him again. Two more bursts of air, both of which move his chest. I haven't heard a canon but maybe it went off when we were still in the water? No, the hovercraft would have picked him up. Maybe not because I was still so close? Maybe they're waiting for me to leave? I don't know about any of those other things, but do know I will _not_ leave him.

More chest compressions. I'm shouting again, hitting his chest rhythmically, shouting something that's not so nice, irrationally angry at him now for not breathing. I listen at his chest for his heart, put my hand close to his lips. Nothing. I breathe into his lungs again, so scared now that I'm crying, crying which is inhibiting my ability to count beats, meaning that I'm off my rhythm. Am I doing this right? Was that thirty? I don't know. Crying and shouting and swearing all the time wondering if I've missed something.

Finally, finally, _finally_, he coughs, spewing water everywhere. As he coughs again I push down on his chest, helping him expel the water that's been drowning him. He's not fully conscious yet, but coming to in a big hurry with the clearing of his lungs. He opens his eyes, coughs up another mouthful of water and gives me a very slight smile. Like it's funny. I hit him, hard and not timed with an exhale. A sharp, open-handed strike to roughly the same place where I was doing compressions a minute ago. It makes him cough violently again, which can't be bad. The blow is punctuated by a yell of mingled relief and anger and I get up and walk away. He's awake enough that he can cough the rest up on his own.

It's not funny, not in the least! He could've died; he _would _be dead if I hadn't sat there for minutes trying to wake him up again. Ok, maybe it wasn't minutes but it sure felt like it. I've never been so scared. I wipe my face on the sleeve of my jacket, and realize that it does nothing but mix fresh water with the salty stuff pouring from my eyes. I don't dare go near the lake again, not even to wash my face, but instead pace around for a while, my hands up over my mouth, trying to stop the sobbing and shaking, looking back every so often to make sure Cato's ok. He is. He sat up a while ago, braced himself on his hands and knees and coughed up what was left in his lungs and vomited anything he had eaten. He took off his shoes and socks and he's sitting with his arms around his knees now.

I return to him. I've walked in a big circle around him so he jumps when he feels my hand on his back. I sit down as close to him as I can without being on top of him and rest my head against his arm, realizing that thinking I had the shaking and crying under control was a mistake. He puts his arms around me, pulls up my hood and lets me bury my face in his neck where I cry again, silently though. The whole point of the hood being up is so that the cameras don't see me. It'd be pointless to sob loudly again if I'm trying to avoid them.

It doesn't matter now how jealous he was, how traitorous he thought I was, how angry I've been all day or what we've said or done to each other. I don't care how if my ribs are still sore and he doesn't even seem to remember 6 or our last conversation with 2. We've both messed up; neither of us has communicated the way we should have, but when push comes to shove, we'll put our personal problems aside to protect each other.

At first, Cato's grip isn't nearly as strong as usual. He's weak, I guess from the lack of oxygen to his muscles and brain, but gradually he holds onto me tighter, rubs my back until I've calmed down again. When I have, I pull off the hood and speak to him. "It was a reassuring smile? You were telling me you were gonna be ok?" I'm still close enough to him that I feel his head move as he looks at me.

"Of course." He kisses the top of my head.

He squeezes my shoulders and rests his head on top of mine. It's only now that I realize that it's freezing, but he's warm, at least to me. "Sorry," I tell him. Sorry for whacking him. Sorry for walking away. Sorry that all of this has happened to us. Sorry I didn't remember before right now how totally safe I feel with him protectively holding onto me.

He responds by holding on tighter. A nonverbal, 'Don't apologize'. "I shouldn't have hit you. I should've known––"

"Ssh," I tell him. I rub his back too to quiet him. "I know." I know he didn't mean it. I know it would have never _ever_ happened at home and it'll never happen again. It was a mistake brought on by anger at a fabricated situation devised by 2 to throw a wrench in between us. All it takes to create jealousy and force it to the surface is one sentence by a desperate boy, and such ugly emotion can turn into defensive blind rage as quickly as dry grass will catch fire.

Yes, the situation was trivial and if he ever hit me that hard outside the arena, I'd have a huge problem with it, but with the stress of our lives literally _constantly _in danger, here he's got an out. No one but someone who's gone through the Games can understand how quickly the smallest things can be magnified when you're fighting tooth and nail day in and day out to stay alive. And I'm a Career! The odds are supposed to be in my favor but that doesn't help; clearly we're just as at-risk in here as everyone else.

I remember the question I had earlier: What did I lie to him about that would make him so mad? It's now that I realize that the content of any lie wouldn't have mattered. What would have made him angry was that I'd lied at all. When you come in here with a pre-arranged agreement with someone and then find out twelve days into the Game that your counterpart might not have been being as honest as you'd both promised to be, when she agrees to separate and only seeks you out after the Gamemakers have said you can both go home as victors, it's going to look suspicious. Based on his reaction to what 2 said, I know jealousy was a factor, but that injury, the one done by my supposed fair weather friend attitude, did much more damage.

Cato doesn't seem to see the out though because he continues talking. "I wanted to talk to you last night...to fix it. I know there's not really an explanation, but I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't." I've never heard his voice shake like this. He stops speaking as something else occurs to him. "Did I hurt you?" If I get hurt in here, it won't be good and if he's the one who did it, if he's the one who's injury jeopardizes my safety, he'll never forgive himself. That's the message his question conveys.

I sit up and look at him directly so we can both see each other's eyes. "I'm ok," I tell him. He needs to know more that that. I understand both how I know that and why he needs the information. If I'd ever hurt him, I'd want to know exactly how badly so I could compensate and cover for him should he need it. "It's bruised and a little sore," I explain. Really most of the pain was gone by the time I woke up this morning. I'd say that, but using the word 'pain' would not downplay this the way I want to. Yes, I recognize that might not be entirely healthy, but neither is volunteering for the Games. Maybe it would be right to question my mental state. "I've been hurt much worse than this before."

"But never by me," he answers quietly. It isn't a pity party; it's a fact.

"No," I agree. "Never by you." My voice is very gentle, as is the hand I have on the back of his neck, trying to calm him.

"Never again by me either. I promise." I tell him I know again, wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. His arms go around my waist and he buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on me is just as strong as usual, not weak like a few minutes ago, not crushing like the last time I saw 2 alive. Just normal, secure and comfortable. Strong it may be, but this is the same hug as right before the reaping on the last day at home. He's clinging to me for support so I hold him. I can feel his body shaking and I can only imagine he's having the same silent breakdown I just got over.

Slowly, I feel the shaking subside and then he sits up again and makes eye contact with me. I can only imagine how ridiculous this must look in the Capitol. Two Careers, both from District 2, both with red puffy eyes, sitting cuddled together in the middle of the arena. I brush some of his drying hair off his forehead and we simultaneously give each other half smiles.

We know we should find better coverage than out here right next to the lake but we're exhausted. I take two knives from my jacket and he extracts our blanket from his pack. We lay down and he drapes the blanket over me, leaving his arm protectively on my shoulder. I keep my hands under the blanket and press the handle of my second knife into the palm of his hand. "Just in case." We know this is ridiculously arrogant, sleeping so out in the open with neither of keeping watch, but after what we've just gone through, I've got a pretty good feeling that the Gamemakers will let us sleep through the night. I move closer to Cato, touch my head to his chest just like the last night at home and the tracker jacker days. We're asleep, sharing our body heat, safe with each other, before the anthem even plays.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: So I'm gonna do one big paragraph AN today because I'm gonna have to go soon to the hospital. My dad is there now because he had a monster heart attack on Thursday night and has yet to wake up. I'm his medical proxy so I have to be paying attention to things and ready to go do medical proxy things but I'll post on here when I can. Just sorry if It's not nearly as personal or frequent. My apologies but I do still love all of you. :)

Ok, so to this actual chapter. Parts of it were redone because I wanted to make it clear that their relationship, while imperfect, is largely healthy. I mean, clearly they care about each other. Look at all they've gone through. A lot of why I wrote things the way they are is to show you that being in the arena affects them too. Ruthless killers and all they may be, but they are people who freak out and mess up. I hope that comes across as it should. You're totally supposed to be furious with Cato, as Clove is, but you're also supposed to love him even if he's a scrub. I hope this Part 1 of their making up makes you a little happier. I like them. Anyway, I have to go now for breakfast and such so talk to you guys later. Let me know what you think of the chapter.  
~Billy


	25. Chapter XXIII: Close

**Chapter 23: Close**

In the morning, I give Cato some basic tests to check his brain function. Obviously he is going to be fine because he woke up, cleared his lungs, and was really only without oxygen for less than five minutes. At home, they'd give him oxygen therapy to treat that, but we don't have the means here. All I can do is check his basic motor functions, ("Here, touch the tip of my finger now touch your nose, now my finger again") hand-eye coordination, (I remove my District token, the small diamond ring which glints in the early morning light, toss it to him and he catches it no problem. We repeat this three or four times), memory, and cognition (I'm no good at setting and solving complex math equations so for these last two we stand and spar for a few minutes. We learned specific motions in training at home. I remember them in my sleep and if he falters I'll notice. Also, I was always more proficient with the more complex moves so I can test his problem solving abilities by seeing if he can get himself out of a tricky situation. Actually, sparring is an effective way to test all of the above). He seems a little groggy to me, but that could also just be from stiffness and lack of sleep. I'd forgotten about the sting in my hand, but it's red and swollen now, which he notices at the end of our match. I tell him, only because he asks, how I got it. His lips tighten but he can't seem to find words. I squeeze his forearm reassuringly before I go over to where we left our boots to dry.

We're tired and stiff especially because we slept in freezing wet clothes but we press on, looking for food and water and working the soreness from our bones and muscles. We no longer trust the lake. If the Gamemakers have rigged it to light on fire, my best guess is that there is some nasty chemical in the water that would do us both in. Of course, Caleb might be able to debate that. Who knows? Maybe we triggered tiny fire launchers concealed in the banks. Whatever the answer, I don't want to test it.

As primitive as it is, we eat squirrel raw with as much dignity as we can. We've both had enough fire for a lifetime. There's no way our supplies are still intact and even if there were, there's no getting either of us to go back to that part of the woods. Raw squirrel provides sustenance but the aftertaste is disgusting so we find mint leaves and chew on them. If we spit them out and chew new ones every so often, it dulls the taste of the squirrel.

We're both very thirsty, so its a stroke of luck when we find a shallow pond. Before we drink, we inspect the bank and the bottom of the pond. It's only natural to be suspicious, especially after last night. I recognize many of the plants growing along the edge and know that they need mass quantities of water to grow. I also know they're edible if you're desperate enough. Their water source is this pond and if they're alive, the water must be safe to drink. We have no more iodine (which is why we are being so careful about inspecting the water) and no more canteens so we both cup our hands and lift a sip of water to our mouths. Cato suggests we wait a while just to be sure there are no adverse effects and we spend the next half an hour collecting edible plants. One of us stands guard over the pond, watching to make sure nothing strange occurs and the other gathers. Who knew we'd ever be this desperate? After a half hour, we drink more water and eat some of the food we've collected over the course of the day.

In the evening, we find proper shelter not far from our pond. We're deep in another part of the woods far away from the fire pod, under cover of some trees, sitting across from each other, our backs against two different trunks, our legs extended, soles touching. This time we're waiting for the anthem to play. After the announcement of the feast, we look at each other, annoyed with Seneca Crane, annoyed with everyone. Yes, it's helpful of them to offer to resupply us at this stage, but in all honesty, we wouldn't even be here if it weren't for them. Why can't we just live in the woods? We'd manage. Maybe we don't want to live in _these_ woods but somewhere away from the Capitol, away from the government. Together. We'd more than manage together in a forest out of the reach of the Capitol. Hell, we're managing now. We'd thrive away from here, be genuinely happy as we always have been at home outside the fence.

"You know what?" Cato asks me. I look up at him, pulled away from my thoughts by his voice. "They said we can both go home. We did it." It doesn't much matter now if the Capitol hears that kind of talk from us. We're a team by their own rules and we should be happy about it. And as for bringing it up two days after the original announcement, well, we didn't exactly celebrate that night, did we?

"Yeah," I smile back at him. "It almost feels like we've already won."

"We will," he assures me. "Just a couple more days." We both laugh then, giddy with the prospect of our success. We'll be back in the Capitol, homeward bound, in a couple of days! There's no way any of the other tributes will hinder us. There's no one who rivals the pair of us at home, and they're all trained fighters. The rest of the tributes are just kids: one injured, one very smart and fast but weak, one apparently a decent shot with a bow and arrow but useless at close quarters, and one giant who didn't pay attention to training. We can take them.

Silence falls again between us, content, excited silence. Then Cato snorts out what sounds like a laugh and I look around at him. "What's up now?" I ask him.

"Nothing. I just-." He's awkward and he's rarely awkward. "I just... Well, it's not really funny but...nothing." I prompt him again. He shakes his head at himself and tells me, "It's stupid. Don't worry about it. I don't know what made me think of it." I remain silent, assuming he'll either tell me or not. I'll ask him again if he doesn't speak up within the next thirty seconds, but I try not to pry. Turns out, this time I don't even need to ask. He sighs and says, "I think I want to kiss you." Come again?

"What?" I say. Is that the appropriate response? What am I supposed to say? That bossy little voice can talk all it wants once I've been stung by tracker jackers, but does it show up now to help me through a social situation? No, of course not. And of course my response is ridiculous and inadequate. For all the training I underwent at home about how to read people, no one ever taught me how to react to this. But this is Cato, my best friend of ten years. Since when does he say things I'm unable to respond to?

"Uh...I," he stammers. "I don't know. Forget it." He doesn't sound angry, quite the contrary. He even gives me a small half-smile. I force a small laugh and begin to play with leaves from the tree behind me. I shred them along their veins, throw the pieces away, and pick up new ones.

"You kissed my head," I remind him, my voice quiet.

"I did." The defeated look on his face gives me the impression he'd let the subject drop now if I did. Crap. Fail. Again. It seems like I've deflected without having meant to. 'I want to kiss you'. And then from me: 'Well you did already so...I'll just tear up these leaves.' We don't talk for about another minute, both lost in thought.

I've never given any thought to kissing him. Yesterday, I gave him mouth to mouth, which is about as close to a kiss as you can get, and it never even occurred to me that the guys back home will give us a hard time about that. Partly because Cato wimped out and had to have me save him, but also partly because I had to kiss him to get him to come back. I never even thought of it as a kiss. I thought of it as 'This is the only way I know how to help him.' I was terrified I'd lose him, and not because being allied with him keeps the others away. No. I was scared I'd lose him. I don't want to lose him. He's strong and safe, and warm and comforting and reminds me of home.

"Like...now?" I'm surprised that that came out of my mouth but glad I didn't give it more thought. If I had, I may have chickened out of saying the only appropriate thing that's come out of my mouth in the last five minutes. I guess the fact that I never entertained the idea of kissing him doesn't mean I'm don't want to, which I didn't know until just now.

He doesn't verbalize his answer, but looks up briefly, gives me a shrug, and then fixes his gaze again on the ground. I curl my legs up and go to sit next to him. I put a hand on the side of his face to get him to look up at me, then kiss him, gently, very gently as I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. I realize when I pull about a millimeter away that that wasn't good enough. That humored him, but it wasn't good enough for me. It didn't tell him what I wanted it to. And for another thing, I want to kiss him again. Maybe I have for a while. So sue me.

I press my lips to his again. It's a deeper kiss this time, one hand behind his head, the other on his shoulder. His arm goes behind my back, his fingers strong behind my shoulder, holding me close. I smile and pull just far enough away so I can utter audible, understandable words, "What are you thinking?" His hair feels soft under my fingertips. We've been friends for years and we've been training together forever but we've never been this close. I'd never have thought of being comfortable enough to run my fingers through his hair and let myself observe that, even though it's probably dirty, it's soft. He's Cato: strong, safe, warm, comfortable, home, dangerous to someone on his bad side, never soft until just now.

I feel his breath on my lips as he quotes his thoughts at me, "'How mad would she be if I wanted to kiss her again?'"

I shake my head very slightly, not wanting to move any further away than I absolutely have to. "Not." We're both smiling as he kisses me. We don't stop until we need to breathe. When we do, we pull apart and look at each other, both grinning and breathing faster than normal. Who would have thought this of all things would speed up our hearts and breath? We're Careers, the best runners of our age... Since when... _Who cares?_

This isn't the Cato I know, awkward and nervous, but this isn't the me that I know either, wanting to kiss either Cato, but I like all four of us. And I like both Catos enough to want to keep kissing either or both of them. I wrap my arm more securely around his neck and pull myself onto his lap. It's not seductive or anything like that, but how else am I supposed to snuggle and kiss him at the same time? I hug myself tightly to him and smile as we kiss again and all the years of Peacekeeper and Career training have made our grips on each other unbreakable.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: I think most of my AN is going to be covered in my response to my lovely reviewers

Harry Styles: :) Thanks and I hope you continue to read and enjoy

Ghanaperu: You're absolutely right about Katniss never having known about anything like this happening and I'd guess the Gamemakers wouldn't have left the Careers completely alone. They'd have messed with them too. Also, I hope that the fact that a day after they've 'begun the making up process' they're kissing isn't weird. They're supposed to totally be back to being friends by now because that's just how they are.

TwilightCharmedFaie: They're so close :) So much love. And as I said, I hope everything in the previous chapter about why they were able to make up so quickly made sense. I mean, if one of my guy friends elbowed me in the ribs, I'd be pretty pissed (we would be awkward at the very best), but they're under ridiculous stress so I think they can to given a break.

hungergames98: So you said brother and sister and I wrote this chapter...actually the whole story...months ago so I hope this isn't weird. I think it might be now you've brought up that they could just have brotherandsister (that's how I write it whenever I write to my brother) love. I tried to really keep them both (especially Clove because it's her thoughts we're reading) in character so that's why she's so snarky and talkative in her head even after she's kissed him. This new aspect of her relationship with Cato isn't supposed to change who she is or who he is. It's supposed to literally be that they've figured out they're in love actually and not just best friends who would take on everything ever for each other and it's just supposed to add that layer to their friendship. It's not supposed to change them, but just make them both aware. Does all that make sense?

Ok, well, as I said earlier, I hope this chapter isn't weirdly written and I hope it's not awkward. Let me know.

Also, an update on my dad because I brought it up in the last chapter: He's still sleeping after his heart attack/lack of oxygen to the brain so he needs to wake up. He's been in the ICU since late on the 17th of August but we're looking now for a different place for him since the ICU's done all they can. Thank you all for your support.

~Billy


	26. Chapter XXIV: The Feast

**Chapter 24: The Feast**

When I wake up, I'm laying with my head on Cato's chest, one arm wrapped around him. I fell asleep like this but vaguely remember that I moved at night. I rolled over but kept my head on Cato's arm. The parts of me that had been touching him, part of my face, the inside of my right arm, and most of my right side rapidly became cold. That woke me. I stirred, touched Cato's arm, remembered where I was, then roused him gently. I said his name twice before he woke up.

"Hm?" He was too tired for real words. I mumbled something and reached for his hand and he understood. He curled up, his other arm around my waist. Content again, I moved closer to him and he tightened his grip. "Thanks for waking me up," he said into my hair.

I wasn't sure if he was sarcastic or not so I sighed, found the arm around my waist and pushed it back. "Fine. Go back to sleep." It didn't sound aggressive, maybe a little defeated.

"I meant that." He put his arm back around me and moved his head closer to my ear. "The more often it's you that wakes me up, the better."

I just laid there, slightly stunned, then I turned to see him. "When we get home, you should be a poet."

He nodded and smiled. "After today we'll be one step closer." He kissed my temple. He's right. Maybe tonight will have been our last night in the arena, but that's probably too much to hope for. "Go back to sleep. We'll need to be rested to do this." At some point I moved again, waking both of us briefly, just long enough to turn over again, push Cato's shoulder and rest my head again on his chest. That's how we've been sleeping until now.

He's got his right arm wrapped around me, though not as tightly as usual because he's still sleeping. It's dark but I can tell it'll be dawn soon. Maybe I am a little nervous because I've just realized nothing else could have provoked me to wake up this early, unless... Typical of many victors I've seen, I give a small start as a darker thought occurs to me and look around, peering into the shadows, looking for anything that would have woken me: another tribute, an animal, a mutt. There's nothing. I should have guessed. The Capitol will want us to go to the feast and kill each other. They won't be sending in mutts or setting fires to chase us around unless they think we're not going to go.

I sigh and bury my face in Cato's jacket, enjoying the last minute or two of comfort before we get up and start the day, which is sure to be exhausting. I think back to last night and tighten my arm around Cato's chest in a hug.

We'd forgotten where we were until some sound spooked us both. I don't know how we managed it, given how close we had been to each other, but we were both on our feet with weapons drawn, looking around for whatever had made the sound in less than three seconds. We'd searched our immediate vicinity, ascertained that it had been nothing more sinister than some small animal, then decided we'd better go to sleep. I'd curled up next to him and fallen asleep. I inhale deeply, taking in his scent.

_ Tough it out. Get out of here. _Maybe last night will have been the last night in the arena and then we'll be going home. Home. _No. You're in the arena now. Don't get lost thinking of home. Tough it out. Get up. _

I pick my head up, kiss Cato's chest, then sit up, trying not to move his arm too far and kiss him again lightly, like the first one from last night. But he doesn't move. I smile and kiss him a third time, longer, less gently. I'm supporting myself on one elbow and the hand that's around Cato's chest and I'm fairly certain he's awake, but he feigns sleep and lets me keep kissing him. Morning breath after nothing but water and peppermint leaves to wash out raw squirrel should put us off kissing, but it doesn't. Eventually though, he must remember why we need to get up. He presses his lips against mine and when I pull away and look down at him, his eyes are open. "Good morning to you too." He picks his head up and kisses me again and I smile.

"We gotta go," I tell him quietly, wishing we didn't. The smile falls from my features. This, combined with our last two days has got to be pretty entertaining for the Capitol, right How often do tributes do this? Definitely not twice per Games. Or maybe they do and the Capitol just doesn't show it to the Districts. I mean, we are all teenagers locked in an arena of death. Who knows? Maybe people think, 'Forget it. I want to do something with someone before I die even if that only means stealing a few kisses.' Wouldn't that be miserable? 'I want to before I die. I want to do whatever it is with you, fellow tribute. The fact that you might be the one to kill me is massively unfortunate.' Cato puts the hand that was around my shoulders on the back of my head and pulls me down so he can whisper in my ear. Some of my untied hair falls down on his face, covering his lips so the cameras won't see.

"We could just let them fight it out." Wouldn't want a microphone to hear that.

I shake my head. "Someone would take whatever they sent us."

"What do we need?" _Maybe everything that we lost in the fire?_ Though a small, strangely romantic part of me understands this to mean 'What do we need? We have each other.' Even the part of me that knows we have to go to the feast recognizes that there's some truth in this. Cato and I as an inseparable team would be unbeatable even without supplies. "Plus," he continues, "the others will guess that we're there. They'd be afraid we'd chase them down if they took our stuff. We could go get it later."

"You got a bad feeling about this?" I tease him, grinning. "Nervous?" I pull back from whispering in his ear and grin at him. He gives me a look for a split second that should give me a warning, but it doesn't register in my head and before I know what's happened he's flipped over and is looking down at me.

"Course not. I'd just rather stay here." He whispers in my ear.

"Me too," I agree, turning very slightly and kissing his cheek. He moves too and continues kissing me. My hands go from his biceps, which are tense from holding himself up, to around his neck. He drops to his forearms and his fingers find and play with my hair. What I wouldn't give to stay like this all day! Avoid the feast, the other tributes, the pods, the cameras, the prying eyes of the Capitol and the Districts, everything. For several minutes we continue until I remember that staying like this right now will not ensure that we go home to safety. Quite the opposite, it will most likelyresult in our untimely deaths.

I put my hands on his chest and push up gently. He doesn't sit up immediately, probably because I don't stop kissing him until he actually moves. When he does, he offers me his hand and pulls me up into a sitting position. "We'll be back soon," I reassure him. He nods.

"Maybe I do have a bad feeling about this," he admits.

"Everybody does when they go to these things. It's what entertains the Capitol."

He's fidgeting with his hands and I wonder why until he holds his fist out to me and says, "Take this. Keep it with you." I hold out my hand and he drops his district token, the silver ring with the onyx stone, into it. I look up at him, slightly surprised. "I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want you to have it."

"We'll trade," I say, taking off my ring and holding it out to him. His ring is too big for my fingers and there's no practical way for him to carry mine either so we pocket them both and make sure they're secure. _Ok. Time to go. _

We stand up, make sure all our remaining weapons are secure and walk back toward the Cornucopia. I take his hand on the way there. We're tense, but focused, prepared for the feast.

"I'll take 22," Cato says as the Cornucopia comes into view through the leaves. "I'll find him. 23 is yours."

"9?" I ask.

"Don't worry about her. We'll track her later."

I nod. We crouch down and keep our eyes on the Cornucopia. Our hands still tight together. Minutes after we arrive, the ground opens up and a white table emerges. On it are four packs, two relatively large, one tiny, one in the middle. Suddenly, a flash of red hair and the medium sized pack is gone. 9 is tearing off in the other direction. There's a break, a pause of maybe thirty tense seconds and then 23 is racing toward the table. "See you after," I squeeze his hand, then push off from my crouch and sprint after her, drawing a knife from my sleeve as I go. I aim slightly to her right, having had enough of the 'knife in the back' thing at the Bloodbath. I don't know how she knows it's there, but she brings her bow up and knocks the knife off course. Then she turns and, with skill no one but she knew she had, sends an arrow straight toward me. I step to my right to avoid taking the weapon directly to the chest but I misjudged its angle and it ends up sticking hard into my upper left arm. I hear myself make a noise of pain with the impact, but I can't slow down. Knowing it's not proper procedure, I grab hold of the arrow, as close to its entrance point in my arm as I can, and pull it backward. The pain that follows is absolutely murderous and I would gladly curl up on the ground, but I can't. _Tough it out. _

I grit my teeth as 23 reaches the table, and slips the tiny bag around her wrist. I draw a second knife, aim again to her right, higher this time and let fly. Ouch. She turned into it. _Fool!_ But in all honesty, I feel no sympathy what with the gaping wound in my own arm. Her bow was already loaded and even with blood in her eye she fires another arrow.

This time I'm ready and definitely unwilling to take a second arrow to any part of my person so I dodge and know the arrow sticks in the ground. Then with all my momentum, strength, weight, and fury, I slam into her, bring her hard to the ground and pin her with my knees, very similarly to what I did to 1 on the first day in here. 23 struggles, tries to throw me off but I'm heavier and stronger than she is and I know what I'm doing. I'm furious with her for the damage she's just done to my arm and I want to scare her. "Where's Lover Boy?" I ask quietly.

"He's out there now, hunting Cato," she snaps back at me. Then she screams 24's name and I shut her up with a fist to her throat. But she's reminded me of where I am now. I turn my head quickly from side to side, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. If 24 is out there and 22 is around and they're both watching this fight or they're both hunting Cato, we're at a distinct disadvantage. Then I remember how badly hurt 24 was when I saw him at the stream. That cut can't have healed properly. He's not here.

"Liar," I snarl at her. "He's nearly dead. Cato knows where he cut him. You've probably got him strapped up in some tree while you try to keep his heart going. What's in the pretty little backpack? That medicine for Lover Boy? Too bad he'll never get it." I taunt her, say something about making a promise to Cato to mess her up (which is obviously untrue), something about her not going home, something about 21. I use 21's name, Rue, just to get under 23's skin. She struggles furiously at that. Good. Nobody threatens Cato. Not in front of me. Not even if it's an empty threat. I ignore my moral protestation against the use of 21's death as a weapon.

Then I reveal the knives I've collected from the Cornucopia. I want her scared, not necessarily tortured, but it is undeniable that she must die. There's no way they let three or four of us out of here alive. I almost wish I could tell her that, thank her for her roll in Cato's and my plan, and then my heart beats again, sending blood through my veins, sending some more dripping down from the wound in my arm, and I remember that she would just as easily see Cato and me killed. What would it matter to her? I forget any concern for her mental well-being. I do intend to give the Capitol a show only now because I've said it, but I don't intend it to be inhumanely painful. Thin shallow cuts guaranteed to draw blood.

I've just cut the corner of her top lip (see what I mean? There's a huge difference between losing the tip or your nose, the lobe of an ear and getting your lip nicked. All three are painful but one is significantly less so than the other two. The Capitol won't care as long as they see blood) when I feel myself lifted off her. Someone's arms are tight around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides. I scream and struggle, feeling trapped and defenseless. I can't so much as throw an elbow in his face. He throws me, literally throws me, away from 23. I land on my feet but my ankle twists violently beneath me. There's a crack and instant pain follows, radiating up my leg from what feels like a broken bone. There's only one person who could lift me like that. 22.

"What did you do to that little girl?" 22 snarls at me. I thought I was the only one capable of talking like that. He always seemed so calm, composed, fearless even and this new side of him scares me. "You kill her?"

"No," I answer quickly, too quickly for it to be the me that I know, but my voice is still my own. Fear has registered, but hasn't yet progressed to outright panic. I've got knives on me. I can defend myself, even if I doubt my ankle will support me if I choose to run. Cato will come soon. Wait? Fear has registered? Waiting for Cato to come protect me? No. No. I can't be scared in here. They always warned us at training that if we're scared, we're sure not to make it home. What have I got to fear in here besides not returning? Nothing. And as far as waiting for rescue, that's out as well. We're supposed to be entirely self-sufficient. The fact that both of those thoughts have just formed in my head is even more distressing. _No, Clove. Man up! _But even that voice sounds a little shaky.

"I heard you say her name! I heard you!" He steps closer to me and I feel my eyes widen as fear morphs into panic. I see the stone in his hand, feel my heart beat harder against my ribs, "You cut her up like you were gonna cut up this girl here?" He gestures to 23 with the stone.

"No! No it wasn't me!" I sound as terrified as I am. I shake my head and slide myself backward over the grass as he advances on me, dragging my injured leg and gritting my teeth against the pain in my arm. 23 hasn't moved. I wish she would. "Cato!" I scream, looking back over my shoulder at the spot where we had been hiding minutes ago. I hear him answer, but his voice isn't coming from where we were. He's moved. He sounds far away, but that could just be because of the blood pounding in my ears. He'll come. He'll come and kill 22 and hopefully 23 as well and 24 will die wherever he is and then we'll just have to find 9. He'll come and stop this hallucination from becoming reality and then we'll be homeward bound just like we said last night.

22's looking livid, not scared as I hoped. He knows before I do that Cato isn't coming, not quickly enough. I can't believe this might really be about to happen. Can I really be about to go from 'Relatively unharmed' to 'Dying' in a matter of seconds? I find the answer is 'Yes' as 22 raises his stone. I disregard honoring my district and scream for the one person who is my only hope of rescue now. "Cato!" I'm desperate and I know I'm done if he's not here in the next three seconds. I look back at 22 and barely have time to draw breath for more than a terrified squeak before his stone comes down.

Disclaimer: I used some direct quotes in here from Clove. I don't own those or any of the characters or anything really except my own thoughts.

AN: So, a few more snuggles because I like snuggles and then the feast!

Does all of Clove's stuff make sense? Why she kinda freaked out on Katniss and her little internal monologue and everything? Again, I worry that this stuff is not at its usual standards and there might need to be some revisions made but ... there we are.

To my lovely reviewers:

I love you. Soon I shall have 100 reviews and that will be very exciting! So much excitement.

Ghanaperu: As long as it comes across as them still being who they are, just also occasionally kissing, then it's all good if it's a little awkward at the beginning. How awkward would it be to just start kissing your best friend? Probably a little, especially if you're Clove because she never thought about it.

love3allpplz: I've got about another 70 pages of alternate ending written but it's also VERY alternate ending. I'll probably post it because I love hearing from all of you on here and I'm gonna need something to do over the next year. haha

TwilightCharmedFaie: I'm glad you like their accidental friendship turned romance. I was a little worried about that if you couldn't tell. haha

hungergames98: Good. I'm glad I didn't make the whole thing really weird by messing with their brother sister bond. You had me a little worried there. They SO are meant for each other. Even though we know virtually nothing about how Collins originally created them, I still will ship them until the end of the world. I never thought about it like he was the last thing on her mind when she called for him at that point. I was thinking more along the lines of she was calling him because he was the only one who was going to save her. Do I think he was the last thing on her mind after the rock came down? Most definitely. If that makes any sense.

Noelia: I totally feel you on the starting school again being really stressful. I just moved back into my college dorm. I like the lake scene myself. It's very visual if you imagine it. I mean, think about doing chest compressions/pacing around while sobbing and totally freakin' out, especially when you're Clove because she doesn't do that. It's a little like Katniss when Peeta 'dies' in Catching Fire. I love your nickname for them too. Two love- freaked-out-stressed-birds are exactly what they are.

readingwriter01: I'm so glad to hear I made you fangirl :) That's an honor. :) Evolution is exactly what it's supposed to be. I don't do cheezy MarySue/MartyStew stories. I definitely want to keep them very much in character. I mean, Cato's about to freak the crap out too but really only for Clove or his brother would he do that. Yeah, and there never was a real love triangle, more like a love segment with a pretend love dotted line thrown in there by 2 because he was a jerk trying to mess with them.

For my dad: I generally try to avoid putting this in writing because it's very strange for me and I know it's hard people to read but this is also the only way I communicate with all of you so it's the only means I have. My dad spent nearly 17 days in a coma in the hospital after a major heart attack. He died on the 2nd of September. He was 42. I'm going home tomorrow for the services and I'll come back to campus in Sunday to continue my education. He'd have kicked my ass if I quit. Thank you all for your support.

From The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King  
Gandalf and Pippin in Minas Tirith:

"The journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass and then you see it."

"What, Gandalf? See what?"

"White shores and beyond a far green country under a swift sunrise."

"Well, that's not so bad."

"No. No it isn't."

~Billy


	27. Chapter XXV: Hope

**Chapter 25: Hope**

They say bone pain is worse than any other kind, barring perhaps childbirth, and I believe them. I can't possibly be sitting up still but the pain in my temple eclipses everything else. I can't see him, but 22 has apparently turned away from me because I hear him talking to 23. They make some kind of deal, I think, and then there's Cato's voice again. My ears hone in on that sound. He screams my name and I try to call back to him, but all that escapes my lips is a moan. 22 urges 23 to run and she must because 22 doesn't talk to her again. I hear little metal things clinking together and know 22 is picking up his pack. Coward! I curse him. Don't leave me here like this! At least have mercy and finish the job! I never even saw Rue in here! I was the one who told the others not to hurt her! More clinking and I guess 22 is stealing our pack, Cato's pack now.

I don't know how long it takes him to reach me but when he does, he drops to the ground next to me. I don't have the strength to turn myself but he sees that I'm trying and helps me. I feel something lose and sharp beneath the skin of my temple where 22 struck me and I grit my teeth against making a noise, but fail. I can see Cato now but my vision is blurry with I don't know what. "Stay with me, Clove, come on! You're gonna be alright." He sounds as desperate as I did a few minutes ago. A few minutes ago?

"He got your pack," I tell him. My voice is strange, thick and unclear but he understood the words. I don't want to say, 'I'm not gonna make it.' It'd kill him, but he has to know that it's his pack now. As wholly as I'd rather weep like a child, ask him to kiss me healthy again, beg him to fix this, or to at least stay with me, tell him I'm not ready to go, tell him to hold onto me so death won't be able to take me away, I can't. I can't. I can't because he can't. I can't because he has to go. I can't. I can't.

"They sent it to District 2, not Cato," he corrects me. I've just realized my eyes are watering again. That's why I can't see right. Probably because of the pain, but also for him. I don't want to leave him. I don't want to lose him.

He's got to hear me say it. I have to encourage him to keep fighting, got to let him know that continuing this is what he should do. I don't want him to take his nightlock. _Tough it out, Clove_. I shake my head very slightly 'no'. "I'm so sorry," I tell him in a breathy voice, totally unfamiliar to either of us.

"No!" he insists, and his voice breaks, too. "No. You have to make it. We're getting out of here together, remember? Don't you leave me." His voice it different too, thick with tears. He sniffs, trying to keep his nose from running. He must know he's deluding himself. We don't have the means here to treat my injuries. It's strange to see him like this. Powerful and strong, but now breaking down to the point where reason can't reach him. "Remember that day at training? I said if it wasn't for you being here I was slated to win?" It wasn't a fun conversation, but I remember it. I hold his hand tighter, even though it's costing me more strength than anything ever has in my life, and try to say, 'uh-huh' but it comes out as a squeak. "I was wrong then. I won't get out of here without you." He puts his hand on the top of my head and tangles his fingers in my hair, as if this will hold me here. He doesn't touch the damaged part of my skull but I'm hypersensitive so it hurts, but I don't let him see that. I put my hand on the back of his hand and hold it there. There's no comfort for either of us now, but this is as close as we'll get. "Stay with me," he repeats.

A thought occurs to me. If I can't win with him, I will do everything in my power to make it easier for him to go home. "Give me her arrows," I tell him. I'll take them out of the arena.

"Clove," he begins. He knows why I want them, knows that I mean to take them with me when they remove my body. His voice squeaks.

"Do it!" The exertion it takes to give a command like that sends a stabbing pain through my head and I screw up my eyes against it. He knows this command is something he needs to follow or else I wouldn't have waisted the energy giving it. He scrambles to his feet, his toes digging into the ground and returns with the one bloody and one clean arrow. I extend my fingers for them and when he gives them to me, I cross that arm over my chest. Both his hands clutch the hand around the arrows tightly. Tears drip onto his knuckles.

"He got your pack." My voice is really breathy now. I'd be surprised if that was understandable. My body's not responding to me the way I want it to. My grip on the arrows is loose but I'm sure they'll take them with me. "...came here for... go," I tell him. My strength is waning and watching this happen to me will make things worse for Cato. He can't watch me die. He'd never get up again. If he leaves now, he'll feel a little guilty later and I'll be alone for the last seconds of my life, but I'm willing to do that if it means he goes home.

He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I love you." I would respond without any hesitation, but all I manage to do is open my mouth a fraction of an inch in an attempt at the beginning of speech. I can't talk anymore. I can just look at him. I hope he knows I'd repeat it if I could. I hope he gets out of here. Hope. Even in my last seconds, I have hope and it's because of him. He kisses me again, my forehead, then the back of my hand. Then he steels himself to stand up. He is the last thing I see.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: I just want to draw attention to the fact that she never once says something like "It's not your fault..." (or any variant of that). It literally never occurs to her that it would be his fault so she doesn't bring it up. I'd have explained that in the actual chapter but then she'd at least have to think of it, which is not what I wanted. This is one of those sneaky plot points that's only there because it's never mentioned, but I wanted you guys to know it was there just in case. Does it make sense?

Also, school has started up again for me so the updates are, as you're probably used to now for the last few weeks, going to continue to come a little slower.

And, heads up, the next chapter is literally like 50 words but I explain why that is in the AN. Another of those literary devices.

To my lovely reviewers:

Authoress-in-training: Thank you for reviewing :) That always makes me so happy :) I'm sorry I made you sad, but as I said there is an AU I've got written and I'll post in relatively soon after I finish posting this one.

speaking of that...

**Question: **When I write/post this AU, I basically can't kill Peeta and Katniss so as I have it written now, all four of them live, but I'm not sure how plausible it is. Opinions?

Authoress-in-training continued: Thank you for bringing that to my attention. :) Also, see what I mean about things getting to Cato? I hope you continue to read/review this an the AU story eventually :) I love hearing from everyone.

Ghanaperu: Basically poor both of them because this is no fun for Clove but it just continues to suck for Cato. As far as her plans for Katniss being endearing or not, I mean, the whole concept isn't exactly endearing. I'm glad it made sense in this. I feel like she was portrayed as very one-sided in the book and so I'm glad the justification makes sense.

TwilightCharmedFaie: I love LotR. Pippin's my favorite; he's just so cute and Scottish and perfect :) Aww! I'm so excited you'd read the AE :) I'm also glad a bunch of you guys have come to love them through this story. It's not exactly an easy task because they're painted as so evil in the book, but really, like all the other tributes, they were victims of the Capitol too, weren't they? I've got a whole explanation as to how that happened which I will figure out a way to put into the AE.

hungergames98: Right! I don't know why they did the Glimmer/Cato shipping in the movie! I mean, Leven and Zxander didn't seem to mind, but it totally doesn't make sense. Ah! I was well into writing this story when I saw the movie and therefore a die hard Clato shipper and I was furious! haha. I wouldn't go as far as to say she was innocent, but certainly not heatless either. More protective and aggressive. Either way, I'm glad this chapter gives a new sense to her speech. It really does sound mean in the audiobook/look mean when you read the text/in the movie (which is harder to justify because Katniss neither hits her with the arrow nor threatens Cato), but I'm happy it comes across differently here without breaking her character :)

CountrySweetheart15: See? Told you I'd post more :) I think I frightened you with the 10 day gap. Sorry :( but now there'a another chapter. Let me know what you thought, yeah?

Also, thank you all for the positive thoughts :) It's definitely a rough situation, but I'm glad I have all of you on here. You all make me so happy.

I'll post more soon.

~Billy


	28. Chapter XXVI: Hunting 22

**Chapter 26: Cato and Thresh**

Running. Can't breathe. Can't think. No pain. Trees and grass and fall. Up again. Chase. Heart. Clove. 22.

Chase. Find. Not find, hunt. Chase. Hunt. Kill. Sword is weightless. Win for her. Left her. Guilt. Lost her. Revenge. Win for her. Eyes sting. Breathe. Stop. Look. Listen. Turn and - nothing.

"Come on!" Anger. Throw spear. Shadow. Movement.

22.

I have him.

I grit my teeth, keeping back another roar of fury and tear after him, wrenching the tip of the spear from the bark of the tree as I pass it. You're done, 22. Finished.

Catch. Kill. Cannon. Collapse. Cry.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: So an explanation on the writing here real quick. I just want to make sure the style is understood. This is literally supposed to be Cato's thoughts. You know how when you think to yourself you don't always think in words but in images or emotions? You rarely have to explain things to yourself in your own head? That's what this is. A) He doesn't need to explain things to himself and B) He's not thinking straight anyway. His thoughts are all jumbled up and he's not feeling things as he normally would. "Sword is weightless." Remember when I said he'd completely freak out if he lost Clove or his brother? This is him freaking out.

I'm trying to find a concise way to explain this but it might not happen so be patient with me here. It's supposed to be that losing Clove has kind of unhinged him. His thoughts aren't clear until he's so close to catching Thresh. Those are the only full sentences in the actual chapter. The ones pertaining to him actually seeing Thresh and knowing that he has him. The reason it goes back into staccato style after that is because once the deed is done, what else does he have to think about? He's got nothing to take his mind off the loss of Clove so instead he just kind of breaks down for a little while.

So, I know this chapter was really short and I'll try to put the next one up relatively soon here but no promises because it's college and I tend to become mad busy out of nowhere. haha.

And finally, before I write to my beloved reviewers, this is chapter 26, not chapter 28 as it says on the drop down menu. According to that, there will be a total of 30 chapters in this story, including the epilogue, after which there'll probably be a pause of hopefully not too long before I post the AE. Just so you're all aware.

To my beloved reviewers:

**Real quick...**

**oh my gosh I have a hundred and five reviews! So much excitement :)**

TwilightCharmedFaie: I pointed out that she didn't tell him because she never thought of it as being his fault, but I think that's what you meant. I just wanted to make sure I was clear. :)

my lovely guest: Here's an update :) I'm sorry I'm making you sad but glad you're emotionally invested in the story. That's the best feeling when you perform/publish anything, receiving a response from your audience. I talked about that in a previous AN, actually.

Ghanaperu: Yeah... the AE is a little bit less realistic than this one, but it also deviates drastically from the plot at this point. Actually...  
**  
This is important for anyone planning to read the AE...  
**If anyone is interested in a brief preview of the ideas in the AE as I have it written now, let me know in a review/PM (preferably a review actually because I can see those in definite chronological order and so can you) and if you're the first to do so, I'd sort of fill you in on the means I've thought out for getting all four of them out, and the reasons behind that. Basically, I'd be doing it because I want an opinion. This story has received such a huge following (bigger than ANYTHING I've ever published on here before) and I'd hate to lose it because the AE branches too far off from reality.

To Ghanaperu continued: Basically I continue from Cato's POV for a couple more chapters. As I keep saying, I don't want to give too much away, but as I'm sensing people are confused about where this story will end, there is a **Chapter 29** and then an **Epilogue **which will be marked on the menu by **Chapter 31** and **Chapter 32.**

hungergames98: That's exactly why he told her. He didn't want her to die without being absolutely sure. Those were the last words she heard from him. It's kind of heart wrenching that she couldn't say it back, but he knew she meant to.

Thank you very much, you lovelies, for everything. For reading this and for all your kind words over the past month. It really helps to hear from you.  
~Billy


	29. Chapter XVII: Lost

**Chapter 27: Lost**

I spend what feels like several hours curled up with my back against a tree, trying to breathe over the sobs that subside only for a few minutes at a time. It will take more that a couple of days to accept what happened, so sometimes, I'm able to manage and stop myself crying. Sometimes I stop because I can no longer breathe and my body is forced to calm itself or risk passing out; other times, I forget exactly why I'm so upset. Those times are when I can best pull myself together, but they are also the hardest to recover from. If I forget why I'm crying, I stop, and then sit for a minute trying to remember why and it's then that I come closest to accepting that it's real.

I don't know how long it takes before I find the strength to do anything again. When I finally begin to move, I decide to search the packs. 22 got weapons. All he needed were weapons! I'd have _given_ them to him if it would have kept him away from that feast. I fight tears again and push the pack away. Inside our pack are the axes she talked about wanting. I pick one up and hold it in my hand as if to throw it, aiming at the trunk of a tree. If I throw it, I know I'll miss. I'm still shaking so I set it and its twin on the ground beside me.

Next is something neither of us expected, though, after the incident in the lake, and judging by the scratches I'm now starting to notice from running through the woods and the field after 22, and considering that 23 seems pretty good with her arrows, probably well merited. Full body armor. Lightweight but probably the indestructible kind. My throat tightens again, threatening to choke me until I remember that this, which covers me only from neck to ankles, would not have saved her. As I change, my hand runs across the little tin container on my belt. The one from that very first night in the arena.

I fold her armor and set it on the ground across the roots of a tree. I lay her axes on top of it and kneel there, staring at it, remembering. Probably, I'm crying again, but silently this time because all I notice is that my eyes sting and my cheeks are wet. Everyone in 2 will hate me for this, this shame I'm bringing to them, this weakness, this humanity. But maybe it's balanced out by how very inhumane 22's death was. She might not have approved, having always been so quick, but after what he did to her... He paid dearly for it and District 2 is probably at least glad that I can't muster sympathy for 22.

Sympathy is different than guilt though. I have no sympathy, but guilt is creeping in on me as I realize that killing him isn't bringing her back down here to me. She brought 23's arrows out of the arena and they'll probably bury her before I get home if they haven't already. I'll never see her again.

I find myself speaking aloud, as if to her. I use the word 'aloud' loosely. My voice is still quiet and choked. "You wanted me to go home, right? Should I have taken this?" I'm still gripping the container of nightlock. "Did I mess up?" I could still take it but then I left her there for no reason. No. I won't take it. I will go home. It's the promise I made to her when I stood up. I _will _win these Games. No one wants to be alone as they die, but she made sure she was by telling me to go. She didn't want me to stay. That must mean she wanted me to go home. Or maybe I'm too cowardly to take the poison. That could be. I was too cowardly to stay beside her and hold her as she died; that's for certain and she knew it, or she wouldn't have told me to go. But I tell myself it's not the case here and vow that the Capitol will remember her. Most tributes are forgotten if they go home in coffins. Not Clove. They'll remember her because I will not allow them to forget. "I wish you were here. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let this happen to you."

I sleep with my head on her armor. It's all I have. Tomorrow I'll find the others.

Not find.

Hunt.

I don't know how long I've slept, but when I wake, the sun is high. The downpour must have stopped while I slept, but I didn't notice. The Gamemakers are changing the weather on us, but I can't think why. I'm hungry. The Capitol took my spear away with 22's body and I won't use her axes so I cross to 22's pack, open it and tie some of the knives to my belt. There's also a metal spear, collapsable with the push of the right button, very high tech, very expensive. I wonder what he did to deserve all this and who with enough money sympathized so wholly with him. It doesn't matter. I extend the spear, take a look at Clove's armor and axes, mouth, "I'll be back soon," and head deeper into the forest to find something edible before I go hunting for the last three beings in this arena who will set off canons.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: So, unlike the previous chapter, I don't think this one requires much explanation. If you have questions, ask.

Wait, there is one thing but it's kind of hard to put into words...wait...

Aha! I finally figured out a way to word this in a way that'll make sense. Real quick, this isn't supposed to be a Pity Cato Party. I mean, you're definitely supposed to empathize, to feel for him because he's just lost someone he loves, but it's not supposed be one of those, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I must be totally inept. Everything I do is wrong ... etc," chapters. That comes across as self-pitying and he's not by any means. He feels bad, but it's not pity. He's confused, grieving, and trying to get a grip on himself and sort through this because, to top it all off he's still sitting in the arena with the prospect of killing three more people or being killed himself. Does that make sense? Also, I hope it's not melodramatic. I try to be like the least melodramatic person ever. Anyway...

to my beloved readers:

Ghanaperu: Oh yay! I'm glad you liked it. Also, sorry. I intended to post sooner than think but I've been mad busy. The next chapter is similar to "Hunting 22" so it shouldn't take long to proofread so hopefully it'll actually be up soon for real. haha

TwilightCharmedFaie: Ok good :) I was just makin' sure. Basically the next chapters are just full of feelings! So many feelings! 400 feelings!

PercavethLoveForever: I'm so happy you like the story :) Raw emotion was exactly what I was going for. Thanks for giving it that phrase. I couldn't think of it. haha.

hungergames98: Exactly. As I said, you aren't supposed to pity him, but empathize with him. I'm still wondering if I'm wording that in a clear way but I can't think how else to put it. Also, right. he's sort of running, like Katniss in the end of Mockingjay, on hatred and fury and then once he's exacted his revenge, there's nothing for him to do, so he sort of falls apart a little bit. Very Katniss-ish actually. That wasn't intentional. No worries. I've got the AE and also ... well let me put this

**here. Another theory I could use some opinions on...**There's a possibility of me posting some pre-arena Cato-Clove-and-Caleb-are-small chapters. (Sort of how they became friends, their training, their lives in general when they were younger, we're talking ages 8-possibly 17) I'm not sure about this, but I think it would be interesting to write about them as kids and if I get it out in pixels (lol not on paper), I'd probably post it on here for you guys to read. My only thing against that is that I don't want to seem like I'm dragging this out. I don't want it to get old. Sometimes, the reason stories are so good is because there's an ending, you know? Like Harry Potter. Still, let me know what you thoughts are.

hungergames98 continued: yes, so there's probably still a bunch more from me about Cato and Clove so no worries. haha :) I'm so flattered that you get so into this. Ah! It makes me happy!

Haninator: Yes, Guest, I know who you are (for people who aren't Haninator, we've been friends for just about 15 years so I'm not being creepy. I know her.). Thank you for your wise words. Can't have typos. They're embarrassig. haha. Ah well. I'm an imperfect individual. I'll go change it. Also, I hope you read the rest and we need to talk in person soon.

Thank you, my lovelies. I shall post more soon.  
~Billy


	30. Chapter XXVIII: Mutts

**Chapter 27: Mutts**

Running. Can't breathe. Can't think. No pain. Trees and grass and fall. Up again. Flee. Heart. Clove. Mutts.

They're chasing me, none too silently either. I can hear their breath, smell it even as, once again, I tear through trees, sword in one hand, spear in the other. Terror. Part of me is glad she isn't here for this, but another part of me misses her, knows she'd have a better solution than flight, and another part guesses that if she were still here we wouldn't be in this part of the arena, wouldn't be in this mess. If I had been there to stop 22, to kill him before... _Stop. Survive, Cato. Get yourself out_. _It's what she wanted. It's why she told you to go._

Left her. Guilt. Heart. Clove. Mutts.

...

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: Kind of a mix of descriptive prose and details in this one. Basically just to make it evident that the mutts have showed up. Actually I'm a little self-conscious about this chapter because it's so short. I think because it's so short I'll post Chapter 29 like actually quickly here. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. However, Chapter 29 is the last chapter of The Hunger Games. There's a Chapter 30 and then the Epilogue. Basically I'm about to post the end of this and it's totally crept up unexpectedly on me and I don't want to! Ah!

to my lovely reviewers

TwilightCharmedFaie: The end of this story is basically all feelings. I don't want to ruin it. I've been trying to be really good about not giving you guys any spoilers but it's very difficult! Ah! I've already started some of their childhood stuff but it might be a while before I post it. Also ... wait...

**I have another important thing to write  
**I don't know if I've told you guys this already, but I wrote a songfic a few weeks ago to the song "Kiss it Better" by He is We. I heard it and was like "This is totally perfect for Cato and Clove! I'm gonna write a fic for it!" and then I was sitting there in the airport on the way home starting to write the fic and I was like, "Jokes, this isn't perfect for the plot of the story, but I still want to write the fic." Basically, now I have this AU fic but it's really sad. All of the feelings. Maybe I'll post it in between the end of The Conspiracy and the start of the AE story. Would you guys be interested in reading something like that. I can put the summary up if you want. Let me know.

TwilightCharmedFaie continued: All of the feelings! I love Cato and Clove and we know so little about them from the books that I also love writing about them, specifically with many emotions because we see so little of those from them in the book as well.

Ghanaperu: You got it. Self-pity is my least favorite because it's like he's turning the situation around to be about himself and it's not. It's very much about her. Also, I'm sorry I haven't yet sent you the prequel thing. I probably should have written it out before I told you guys I was going to send it to someone because they I could just proofread it and send it off. Also, just to put this out there, I'll be really excited if when I post the pre-Games material you guys see Caleb as an automatic addition to their group. I mean, you've see a little of him and he's been mentioned throughout the story, but still, he's an OC (although he doesn't feel like it to me because I spend SO much time thinking about this) so I'll be excited if he fits in well to you guys.

hungergames98: So, I've literally had 95% of this story completely written from the day I first posted anything on here. I've edited some and, as I said, had to re write some things post-6's death, but I've got the end written and I'm not sure how I'd work in actual memories as I'd like to see them written. I think that will mean I post them in a separate story. Oh whee! I didn't know I'm the reason you ship them :) I feel like I'm making people into Cato, Clove, and Clato fans which makes me feel special! It's that feeling you get when the work you publish gets a reaction and it's one of the best feelings ever. Your Katniss/Rue = Cato/Clove comparison is actually brilliant. It's probably somewhere in between Katniss/Rue and Katniss/Prim. Losing Clove is a whole lot more like losing Prim than Rue because Katniss loved Prim more than anything ever. She also knew her better than she knew Rue and that's how Cato and Clove were. However, Cato's resolution to make the Capitol remember her is much more Katniss/Rue-like. Either way, he and Katniss are much more similar than she would have us believe, based on her descriptions of him in the book. I mean, really, they were very similar.

Thank all of you for your lovely words! As I said, the next chapter will actually be up soon this time.  
~Billy


	31. Chapter XXIX: Happiness

**Chapter 29: Happiness**

I burst through the trees and head for the Cornucopia. My hands are empty. I stuck the first mutt that got within throwing distance with my spear and tied the sword to me as I ran. 12 are standing there, 23 with an arrow aimed at my chest. It tears a hole in my jacket but just glances off my armor. I don't know how far behind the mutts are but I'm too scared to stop and look or even to attempt to take out either of my competitors. I just push past them, sprint the length of the plain, and begin to scramble up the side of the Cornucopia. I reach the top, double over and begin to cough. Running so hard for so long as given me a murderous stitch in my side and the sudden stop has brought on enough chest pain and muscle tension to temporarily immobilize me.

I cough and try to catch my breath before 12 get up here with me. I'm watching them from my position. 23 is far ahead of 24 and it's not until she reaches the Cornucopia, until she's that far from the danger, that she turns to look for him. He's still very far behind her. He fought me to protect her and that's why he's slow now and now she'll run before she fights to save him? I don't have the energy to hate her or him, but I can't help the rush of bitterness I feel as I realize this. I did everything I could to save Clove and she did the same for me. Clove and I risked everything for each other always and 23 will run before she even looks around for 24? It isn't fair that these two still have each other.

24's leg is still injured from my sword. Apparently the damage I did wasn't entirely fixed by the medicine they sent in for him. Well, good. At least we weren't the only team that feast didn't help.

I don't blame them for all that's happened, even if I am, somewhat childishly, bitter. I finally understand that all of this is solely the Capitol's fault. I wonder if all tributes realize that at some point.

Scraping sounds, much worse than nails on a blackboard reach my ears. The mutts are in two groups now, organizing themselves for the attack. I forget for a moment that we're adversaries and view 12 for a moment as two scared kids just like me, climbing up the side of the Cornucopia to get to safety. If they were within reach right now, this instant, I might even pull them up here. My voice is, again, not working properly as I try to yell down to them, "Can they climb it?"

"What?" 23 calls back to me. Even if we're supposed to be killing each other, we're all in danger from these creatures. If they have information I don't, they might as well tell me. I've given them all the information I have, even provided them with the idea to climb the Cornucopia for some safety, but they don't answer.

As they climb, 23 aims an arrow at me, but then gets distracted by a mutt with blond fur. She shoots it in the throat then I see her lips move, forming the words "It's them! It's the other tributes!" How can she know that? These things have been chasing me for hours and I never noticed that, but of course I was in the dark, under cover of the trees. I crawl to the edge of the horn looking over the edge for her mutt. I know I've got at least another thirty seconds before 12 are up here with me. They chose a bad spot to climb.

I understand immediately what 23 sees in the mutts, how she figured it out. I see 21, small but still deadly looking, her curly black hair tangling together as she runs for the Cornucopia beside 2's mutt. 22 is there too. I feel nothing for him. No more guilt, no more hesitation, no anything...I can't even bring myself to hate him. I hate the Capitol and only the Capitol. And I miss Clove. And I'm numb to anything else, raw from the events of the last few days. I see her, snarling and leaping up to scratch the sides of the Cornucopia. I hate the Capitol for what they've done to her, to all of us.

Fury brings me to my feet and I turn as 12 reach the summit of the horn. I get 24 in a death grip, his shoulders parallel with mine, both of us facing 23, my arm wrapped around to the back of his head. "Do it!" I tell her. "Then we both go down and you win." She doesn't. She does nothing. I can't hurt her friend though. She'll shoot if I do. I'm provoking her, yes, but I don't want her to shoot. I'm still planning to go home. "Go on! I'm dead anyway. I always was, right?" Yes, there is still a boy called Cato standing here choking another boy, but the person I was before I volunteered died as soon as I entered the arena as soon as the Bloodbath started, maybe even as soon as I left home. If I'm dead and Clove's dead, what am I going back to? But I must try still. That was the unspoken promise I made her when I left her with 23's arrows in her hand. But I can't help it. I want the Capitol to know what they've done to all of us. All the tributes, all the victors. "No?" I'm angry with her for her hesitation. "Because I could still do this." I tighten my arm around 24's neck. "I could still do this." I don't feel like I'm winning, but I force a triumphant smile onto my features. She'd better make her decision quickly because 24's going to choke to death here in a matter of minutes. I can't do anything until she acts or he dies.

24's been scrabbling half-heartedly at my arms as I've yelled at 23. I say half-heartedly because he's also been trying to stem the flow of blood from his leg. Now he raises his hands again to my hands and his fingers, coated in blood, draw as X on the back of my hand. The grin falters as, for a second, I ponder what he did that for. And then 23's fingers loose the arrow and a second after that, it's sticking into my skin. I yell and let go of 24. I've never been shot before, certainly not from less than thirty feet by a weapon designed to shoot over fifty yards yards. It strikes me with so much force that the barbed head of the arrow passes directly through my hand.

Instinctively, I back up a step, drawing away from her, but this is a mistake. I was only a foot or so from the curved edge of the horn and my feet slip in 24's blood and I go crashing to the ground.

I can think of three good things about this situation:

1. The fall broke the shaft of the arrow and I'm able to pull the rest out,

2. 23 hit my left hand, but I'm stronger with my right,

3. I tied my sword to my belt.

Everything else though is very very bad. As on the day we first found 23, I land hard on my back and immediately feel as if I'll never breathe again. But I force myself to inhale and I yell, with both rage and fear, as I get to my feet. If I can't get back on the Cornucopia I'm a goner. I swipe with the sword and keep my mouth tight shut as blood spatters my face. 1's mutt's body is on the ground, the arrow in her throat. There are three more bodies lying farther away from me. But somehow my brain noted that 23 shot a fifth arrow. Where did it go? I don't have time to wonder because 21's mutt launches herself at me. Clove didn't want her hurt and even if this isn't her, as a tribute to her to both of them really, instead of burying my sword in this things's chest, I reach up and turn her head. Her teeth latch onto my arm, which is still protected by the body armor, but they loosen immediately with the cracks.

I don't know whether or not to be thankful for this armor or resent it. I feel parts of it tearing and I yell louder, as if to scare these things away, but they know they're winning. They smell fear, or maybe they see it, or maybe they hear it in the way that my voice is no longer a roar but an actual scream as I feel teeth tearing my skin. I feel blood on my arm and look. It's Clove's mutt. I recognize her eyes. _Survive, Cato. She wanted you to get out of here_. For a split second, I give up. I can't kill this thing. I could never hurt her. I can't kill something that looks so like her. I recognize her eyes! Then I remember, this is _not_ her. It's nothing like her. She'd never do this. Maybe that's why my heart is stinging like this as I take a second to look at the mutt. The Capitol is doing this and even if I'm to die, I'll honor Clove's memory by trying with everything in me to survive. I will not let this monster replace her.

The natural human instinct to stay alive kicks in and overrides the fear that who I was before the arena is already dead. I don't care. If I can get out of here, I can ... I don't know what I can do but that doesn't mean I don't want to try. I bring my sword under my damaged arm and drive it through the monster's chest. It roars as I do and I push against it. Both of us fall to the ground. I feel its jaw loosen, then it goes limp. Something grabs me around the shoulders. I put my foot on the first mutt's chest, holding it still, and wrench the sword out. This giant dark mutt with brown eyes flecked with gold and short coarse hair throws me and I land on my back. I know who this is supposed to simulate. 22. He's bleeding already and has the last arrow in his ribs but still he's protecting her, avenging her because she's already dead. Despite the irony of the situation, I'm furious. It lets itself fall on top of me, also on top of the sword. I feel its dead weight pressing the handle into my thumb and index finger. "_You're _22!" I snarl into the dead creature's ear. "The other was Thresh!" There! Let the Capitol know that we see each other as people too. Not numbers.

One of the others knocks his form aside and with it my sword. I scramble for it but they catch me and the armor, the indestructible armor, continues to tear. I don't care about honoring my district anymore, about dying with dignity. Anyone in my position would say the same. I'm screaming in terror and pain and I don't know how long for. Maybe it's hours, maybe it's minutes. I know when the remaining eight mutts finally bring me to the ground and drag me into the mouth of the Cornucopia that The Capitol didn't change the rules for us. They never intended Clove and me to make it home alive and whole. From the moment 24 said he was in love with 23 in the interview, they were destined to be victors together. Killing them wouldn't have changed anything for Clove and me. The Capitol had no interest in any emotion we felt for each other.

My eyes are closed but I know dawn is approaching. I don't even bother to assess my injuries. No body, not even one especially honed for combat, can come back from abuse like this. My mouth is full of blood and stays that way no matter how often I try to clear it; my nose is burning with the scent of it. Other parts of my body burn as well, hot to the point where I can no longer feel them. The worst injuries are numb. Yes, some still sting, but my own brain is saving me from the Capitol.

I know my eyes are closed because I can't see the mutts even though they must still be here, but even with that knowledge, I do begin to see some things. Light. Sunlight. Grass. Trees. A silhouette. No mutts. No tributes. No Capitol. The person kneels beside me and I can make out her features. Whole, healthy and uninjured Clove. Just as I remember her from home. She rests her hand on the side of my head and I hear her voice, the same voice I've heard for nearly ten years. "You didn't know." I know exactly what she means. I didn't know what would happen to her at the feast. She's absolving me of any guilt I've felt over her death. "I'd have told you, but I never thought of it." It never occurred to her. She waits a moment for this to sink in before she continues, "It'll be over soon. All of it. The Games. The Capitol." She pauses and looks up at something I can't see. It's warm where her hand is but I can't quite feel her touch. "You were right to kill them, those mutts," she says, her eyes back on my face. "That was really brave."

"Please," In my voice I hear the agony I can't feel. I'm begging her without having known I was going to.

She knows what I mean though. Not just 'Please. I'm in pain and I know I'm not going to make it and I just want to die'. We wanted to go together. 'Please take me with you. I'll live in the woods with you wherever you are and we'll be away from the Capitol and the Games, and the mutts. We'll hike and skip rocks and sleep under stars.' She takes my hand in one of hers, giving me something to hold onto. It's comforting. My last few seconds, which should be agony, are happy as I think of her. Her voice, her laugh, her smile, her talent, her fearlessness, her optimism. The way her fingers felt on my skin, her lips on mine. Genuine happiness. She smiles at me.

Now there's more warmth under the hand touching my head, then heat, then for the briefest of moments: softness. The softness of humanity, compassion, sympathy from 23. No. Katniss. Katniss has ended this for me. I thank her silently for her part in our plan and for what she's just done for me. I wish her and Peeta the years I can't have, the years we can't have.

Then the softness of skin. Clove. And then death.

. . .

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN:

On Cato's speech: So, I've tried to stay as close to the books as possible through this whole thing, but I liked his speech at the end of the film and I also wanted to make a point about it. The point being: When I originally watched the movie in English, I thought he was looking prospectively with the "I'm dead anyway," line, like "It's two against one there's no way I get out of this. I'm going to die no matter what," sort of accepting his death and that it was going to happen very quickly there but also still wanting to make a stand. And then I listened to the German version, in which he says "Ich bin sowieso schon tot," which translates to, "I am already dead anyway" (lit. "I am anyway already dead) and it gave that line a whole new meaning for me, one that basically makes me want to cry always (actually I cry always for any part of this last scene. I can't even listen to the end of the "Muttations" song. It's bad. Anyway...). There's only a one word difference, "sowieso"/"anyway", but it made all the difference in the world to me. Like either way, whether he killed both of them or whether they killed him, it didn't matter because who he was in District 2 is not the same as who he's become in the arena. It's a whole lot darker because it implies that the Capitol killed his spirit, his sense of self, his identity before they ever even really hurt him. It's like he knew now what Peeta explains in Mockingjay about killing innocent people costing "everything you are." I'm pretty sure I cried when I heard that in the German version.

For the record, the Clove that he sees at the end is totally a hallucination. Real Clove would be freaking out if she saw him all torn up like that. Also, real Clove never thought of her death as being his fault. She wouldn't have brought it up, so he's absolving himself. His own brain is saving him from the Capitol.

And another thing, I've already explained the whole 'Clove didn't think about it being Cato's fault at all so it's never actually mentioned,' to you guys, but I realized that he might never have known that so I added it in very last minute as part of what his hallucination tells him. So, sorry about the repetition.

Also, just to point out some irony, Clove totally thought they'd be 'homeward bound in a couple of days'. Unfortunately she was right about that but not about the manner of their return. I realized that a while back and it was eerie.

The rest of this AN is in the end of the following chapter, which will be up in a few minutes. They kind of go hand-in-hand but I wanted to break them down.  
I literally can_not _believe this is at a close. It's CRAZY!  
~Billy


	32. Chapter XXX: A Poem

**Chapter 30: A Poem**

_"Tis the human touch _  
_ in this world that counts, _  
_ The touch of your hand and mine, _  
_ Which means far more _  
_ to the fainting heart _  
_ Than shelter and bread and wine. _  
_ For shelter is gone _  
_ when the night is o'er, _  
_ And bread lasts only a day. _  
_ But the touch of the hand _  
_ And the sound of the voice _  
_ Sing on in the soul always."_

**The Human Touch **by: **Spence Michael Free**

Disclaimer: I didn't write this. But I felt it appropriate to put here.

. . .

AN: See? I wanted to put them in here separately because I'm not the author of this, but it fits really well, I think.

To my lovely reviewers

Ghanaperu: Let me know what you come up with with regard to Katniss and Cato being alike. I'd definitely be interested to know some other people's thoughts on the matter. I spend so much time in my own head and trying to write from Cato's that maybe of course I'm going to associate him with the protagonist of the original novel! even if there's some resounding difference between the two of them. The songfic worries me in the same way Chapter 28 did because I'm concerned about it seeming like a pity party and you all know I don't write those. I don't do self-pity. Anyway, maybe after I post the epilogue I'll post the songfic and then the AE and then them as kids? I think that seems logical.

hungergames98: I totally feel your pain. I didn't think it'd be so hard to draw this to a close but it is! It's so hard! Ah! You're kind of supposed to see flashes of his normal self in the way he thinks "Stop it, Cato. Survive. Get yourself out." He's still in there but only for brief moments. Also, your, "I'm very curious as to whether Cato will die," about broke my heart. Seriously, I squeaked because I was like, "This one's really sad because it's no with an alternate ending!" but you still had hope and then I felt bad. Ah!

TwilightCharmedFaie: I do enjoy reading that you guys are feeling for them. I was worried when I first started posting this that people would lose interest before they got to these last five or six chapters because it's so long, and that would have been sad especially because these are the chapters where you really see them as people with no restraints. You know? For the story preceding Clove's death, they had to be sort of reserved. They couldn't show their emotions as truly or as fully, but here they could so I'm glad you and everyone else have stuck with it.

Also, to the people who have Favorited or Alerted this story, thank you. It makes me very proud.

I'll post the Epilogue in a couple of days.

~Billy


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It's easier to travel now. Trains and buses run between Districts and their borders have been expanded to be actual borders. There are no more wilds separating the Districts into little islands. There are no more laws against travel or poaching. I can climb where we used to go without fear of Peacekeepers. Part of me wonders if my brother and the girl I came to view as my little sister would have loved that, or whether they enjoyed being out here alone, secretly, illegally. Things under Paylor are much better than they were under Snow. I don't know why the Mockingjay shot the President of District 13.

I hike paths we took together. My brother, our friend, and I. It took a long time for me to want to be up here without them and when I finally did, all I could see was them together. I didn't stay long. I would hike up, stand looking over land we looked at together, sit down with my arms around my knees, missing them, replaying their horrible ends in my head. I never meant to, but it happened sometimes.

Then I'd walk back down, remembering the ease with which she scrambled around these paths. The loose rocks and pebbles did nothing to slow her down. I don't remember her ever falling, except perhaps when my brother played with her. They'd run like children, - well, we were children, weren't we? - and chase and push each other. No. I don't think she fell unless pushed. Her ankles had been incredible strong. Ironic then, that that injury was ultimately what lead to her death.

And my brother, he had predicted he wouldn't make it out without her. He'd known long before he even entered the arena. He'd said it to me in our last conversation. "I'll bring us home. Both of us. It wouldn't be the same without her here." Some other, probably better, brother would have told him to watch out for himself, make sure he got home safely, who cares what happens to the girl? Not me. I had just nodded, knowing he was right. I knew then how he felt about her. We were twins. It's the kind of thing you know, especially when you watch it grow in someone for years. He wouldn't have wanted to be here without her. Home wouldn't be home without the pair of them. It's not home now, twenty years later.

The training center was destroyed. When the rebels bombed the mountain, causing that massive avalanche and rockslide, they trapped more than a thousand people in the mountain,. Something broke and gas from the hovercrafts leaked below. It took them years to clean up the charred remains of where we spent so much of our adolescent years. Part of the mountain collapsed too because the ceiling of the center caved. No wonder we didn't support the rebels. Look at the damage they caused! I stopped training and working on the stronghold when my brother died so I wasn't there, but if I had been, my fate would have been the same as all our friends.

Statues have been erected of the 1,800 tributes, a fraction of the victims of the Capitol, all over Panem. They didn't discriminate against our district, even though we were the least willing to help the rebellion. I told the people who came to build their statues where they should go and that they really should be on the same pedestal. So they stand up here on the mountain where we hiked. fourteen thousand feet up, nearly three miles above sea level. They are as they would have wanted to be: home again, sleeping under stars, together forever, my brother and the girl he loved.

Disclaimer: Don't own

AN: No names again, just pronouns, but it should be evident that Caleb's the one to carry on.

Also, sorry for the ridiculously long lack of posting this. Posting Chapters 29 and 30 on a Wednesday threw off my posting things schedule and then I've been mad busy with performances and parents' weekend for the last two weekends. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed reading all seventysomething thousand words of this. It's been mad fun writing it and hearing from all of you.

**In future:** So, as I said I have part of the AE for this written. The one way, the first way I decided to try to write it is like seventy pages long. The other two alternate alternate endings are still very short. I'm trying to write them in such a way that I can just insert them and have the story still flow correctly without ridiculous amounts of editing/rewriting so it might take some time. Plus schoolwork. Blech. However, Kiss it Better can be up pretty soon because it's finished...I think...just about. The stories about them as kids will be up too at some point but I'm probably going to need some time on those as well. Basically, don't forget about me now that I'm not going to be posting weekly. :)

To my lovely reviewers

TwilightCharmedFaie: That part in the original, when he yells down to them got to me. Part of me wants to say I wondered why he did that, why he would ask two people who were still trying to kill him for information, but another part of me seems to remember the idea that I wrote about in this story forming pretty quickly without too much wondering. Also, I'm glad the internal disorder is coming across so well. That makes me happy, even if the story itself is really sad.

Ghanaperu: That's exactly the point I wanted to get across. I mean, they've all killed people, but like Haymitch says, they aren't then enemy. They have no issues with each other other than the ones the Capitol has given them. I would _love_ to talk to Suzanne and ask her how she meant that line or just how she views Cato and Clove. Some readers view them as ruthless cold-blooded people but you can't blame them entirely. Certainly you can blame Clove for the death of the boy from 9 and Cato for the death of the boy from 3, I mean, they're responsible for their own actions, but did they really mean them? I don't think they would have been so vicious if they hadn't been in the Games.

So much love to all of you. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope to see you/hear from you soon.

~Billy


End file.
